For the Greater Good
by Sigrid Frost
Summary: "So what you're trying to tell me… is that the two of us… in this very room… have to create the next powerful half blood wizard!" Voldemort wants to save the old pure blood families from inbreeding and extinction by inducing new blood. Draco has to restore the family honor in the worst way possible. Will he be up to the task? Dramione. M-rating due to language, torture and dub-con.
1. Screams in the Dark

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I just play with the characters for a while.

 **Warning:** This fanfiction contains Mature Adult Content like _torture, lemon/lime_ and _dub-con._ If this content is offensive to you, please don't read any further.

 **Authors note:** I really love to read a good Dramione, and this is my version of it. This fic begins in the seventh book, approximately around the time when Harry, Hermione and Ron are caught by a group of snatchers and taken to the Malfoy Manor. There will be some changes in the storyline compared to the canon. I will update as often as I can find the time, however, realistically, it will probably be no more than once every fortnight or month. Reviews are most welcome, but this is my very first fanfiction, so please be gentle. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors.

 **Chapter 1**

 **Screams in the dark**

 _Draco POV_

The screams found their way through the massive stonewalls in the Malfoy Manor. They went through marrow and bone and caused chills and goose bumps. They made the heart beat faster and awakened an ancient urge to fight or flight. It was like the last warning from a hunted animal to the heard, before the animal was killed and eaten by the ferocious carnivores. A cackling laughter from the torturer made its way through the heavy walls and joined the terrible screams. It was the sound of malicious lust made by a witch, who did what she enjoyed the most, torturing her victims into madness. She loved to attack all traces of humanity within the victim, leaving only an empty, soulless cage. The screaming sounded as if the victim was desperately clinging to the last mental defenses, before she would let go of this world and embrace the madness. Like many others before her had done.

"Bloody Hell" Draco mumbled as he tried in vain to diminish the sounds by pulling his blanket around his head. Nobody knew how to torture like Bellatrix. Alice and Frank Longbottom were living testimonies of her capacity of brutality. The witch with the black curls and crazy eyes truly enjoyed guarding the dungeons, torturing every sense and dignity out of the poor soul, who was subjected repeatedly to her version of the _cruciatus curse._

Another sleepless night awaited him. How he loathed his sore excuse for a life. This present situation was unbearable. He loathed his father Lucius for dragging his family into the realm of The Dark Lord. And he loathed his father even more for falling from grace within the Dark Lords realm, thereby forcing Draco to join the Death Eaters and take the dark mark. He felt a severe hatred towards the Dark Lord for making his sixth year at Hogwarts a living hell by forcing him to undertake this impossible task of murdering the headmaster, professor Dumbledore. Most of all he loathed himself intensely for loosing courage and for failing his mission. If only he had escaped before it was too late. He should have bolted while he still could. He remembered how he used to cry in Moaning Myrtles bathroom stall, while trying to find a way to complete the task, all the while he was dreaming of running away and starting all over somewhere new. Somewhere warm with beaches and hot witches. Someplace nobody knew about the Malfoy family nor the Dark Lord.

Unfortunately these were not very realistic dreams. He-who-must-not-be-named had too many ambitions. The reptile and his minions would very likely try to take over the world, when Great Britain was conquered. There was no such thing as a safe place. Not anymore. And traitors and deserters would be hunted down relentlessly and would meet a cruel and painful death when caught. Draco shuttered.

Earlier this evening the golden trio was caught when Saint Potter, despite the taboo, felt an urge to call the Dark Lord by his real name. The snatchers had brought them in immediately. Someone had cursed the Potter boy's face into some blurry ugliness, and the snatchers were too daft to realize whom they had actually caught. Draco was summoned shortly hereafter in order to identify the prisoners. In his usual arrogant way he had denied any recognition of the prisoners whatsoever, all though he could recognize the Pothead, the Mudblood and the Weasel from a long distance.

However, he was sick and tired of this whole situation. Sick and tired of the fact, that the reptile man and his ass-lickers had invaded his childhood home. The more he got to know the Dark Lord, the more he wondered how the majority of the old pureblood families could follow someone so unpredictable and, to say it bluntly, raving mad. Clearly, the man had lost his humanity long ago. Draco always had to force himself just to look at the man without vomiting. His skin was pale and bluish, like looking at a corpse, his eyes were read and shining with evil, and the nose, the nose was the worst. Just the thought of said nose made his skin crawl. Instead of a nose he only had to holes in the middle of his face, making the impression of a reptile complete.

Draco reflected on his childhood in the Manor. When he was seven years old, he went exploring all the hidden places. It was a boring, rainy day during the summer holidays. Somewhere deep inside the manor he found a formal looking room with a large round table surrounded by antique-looking chairs. Later on, he learned that this room was used as a meeting room once in a while, when shady affairs needed to be discussed.

In the middle of the room he found the portrait of his grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy. The portrait showed an aristocratic, elderly looking man with long, grey hair and intelligent eyes. It was like seeing an older version of Lucius, though while Lucius' eyes shone with slyness and cunning, the eyes of Abraxas shone with a natural authority.

Draco was very happy to finally get to know his grandfather or at least, to get to know his portrait. The feeling was mutual, since the portrait also longed to speak to Draco. He knew very little about his grandfather, because Lucius rarely mentioned him. Apparently there had been some sort of disagreement between the two. He spent hours with the portrait. Hours, in which Abraxas told Draco about the Malfoy family's history and many of its secrets. He also tried to teach Draco about what kind of behavior was expected from a pure blood wizard with such a long and proud heritage like him. He told Draco about the importance of being chivalrous and about the responsibility towards non-magical beings, such as Muggles, and towards partly magical beings, such as House Elves, Goblins and Centaurs and the like. 'With great power comes great responsibility' the aristocratic, old man told him. All though he often failed to follow the old man's teachings later on, Draco never forgot them.

The first owner of the manor, Armand, was inspired by the way a fox always have multiple escape routes from its foxhole. Inspired by that, he made a secret escape route, which was only accessible using the family ring. Abraxas also told him scary stories about the dungeons below the manor and about monsters and dangerous curses. When Draco was put to sleep the following night, he couldn't sleep. He kept thinking about a vicious monster from the crypts, a monster with pale skin, red eyes and long, spider-like fingers. A monster which was fed by the victim's fear and trembling, before it sucked all will to live out of them. Afterwards the victim became part of a soulless army, an army of emotionless people with cold, empty eyes. This army would follow its master's orders blindly. Draco remembered how he had more questions for his grandfather and he wanted to visit the portrait again the following day, however it had been removed.

Reflecting on recent events, Draco suddenly came to the realization that the monster from his nightmares was a lot like the Dark Lord. They had the same red, evil eyes and spiderlike figure. He wondered if Abraxas had been trying to warm him of events to come.

Yesterday, shortly after the golden trio was caught, Bellatrix was summoned. She recognized the Mudblood immediately, and could easily guess the identity of the rest of the group. To Draco's surprise she didn't summon the Dark Lord right away. Instead she was raving about some stolen items from her vault. Avery shoved up after a little while and summoned him-who-must-not-be-named at the exact moment he realized who the prisoners were.

Then several things happened at the same time. Saint Potter and the Weasel disappeared all of a sudden. Rumor had it that they escaped due to a crazy, disobedient house elf, and that the elf was hit by an unforgivable curse during the flight. At the same time Bellatrix grabbed Granger and hauled her towards the dungeons. The Dark Lord was not pleased, to put it mildly. Though strangely, nobody prevented Bellatrix from playing her wicked games in the damp and chilly dungeons, thereby making Draco toss and turn in his bed listening to the Mudblood's heart-rending screams.

"Filthy Mudblood! When I'm done with you, you'll not be able to remember your own name anymore."

Bellatrix' shrill voice made it all the way through the heavy, stone wall and through the blanket he hid his head under. Again and again he could hear the horrifying laughter. Draco could vividly imagine how she would throw the long, black curls back and cackle maniacally. How come he had learned so many spells and curses during his years at Hogwarts, though not a single one to block sound from outside. Right now it would have come in handy. Alternatively a _Sleeping Draught_! A _Sleeping Draught_ would probably be better after all.

A desperate whining sound made its way through the walls. It sounded like a primal scream.

"Enough", he growled, jumped off his bed and thrust his fist into the stone wall several times. It gave him some kind of satisfaction. He suddenly felt as if he at least was doing something instead of being a passive victim.

He became more and more agitated and roared profanities while attacking the wall repeatedly with his balled fist, when all of a sudden there was a crushing sound and his hand hurt like hell. Merlin, it hurt! He shut his eyes while holding his damaged hand between his legs. He was bracing himself to inspect the damage. Looking at blood and damaged limbs always made him nauseous.

With foreboding he lifted his hand up and studied it. All of the hand was throbbing and warm and one of the knuckles was severely displaced. The skin over the knuckle was torn, and small droplets of blood dropped to the floor.

The wall, on the other hand, was without a scratch. The manor was almost indestructible, even against dark magic. It was probably one of the reasons it was chosen as the Dark Lord's headquarter at this critical moment. And of course Lucius' fall from grace also played a role in this matter.

"Nice job Draco, now you've managed to break your hand. And it had to be the right hand, of course", he sneered.

He grabbed his wand and waved it over the damaged hand a couple of times, mumbling some healing spells. It was awkward using his left hand, and none of the spells he used seemed to do much good. The skin he managed to heal somewhat, but sadly the knuckle was still just as displaced. What he really needed now was Madam Pomfrey and a few droplets of Skele-Gro. However, none of things was available at the moment due to Snake Face and his Minions.

He turned around and glanced around in his room absentmindedly, when his vision suddenly caught the large globe next to the armchair. Now he knew what he could do to fall asleep.

"Lumos", he mumbled and waved his wand.

He then went towards the very antique looking globe, which he luckily had left open the last time he consumed some of its contents. He had to grab the bottle between his right arm and chest while clumsily trying to remove the lid with his left hand. The lid stuck and he had to change the strategy. Moving the bottle to his left hand, he braced himself and then yanked the lid off with one quick right handed movement while crying out in pain. For a moment black dots were all over his vision. The dizziness disappeared and he realized he had poured whiskey all over himself. If any fellow Slytherin saw him in the pitiable state, he would never hear the end of it. The mere thought made him cringe.

To Hell with dignity! The Malfoy's had already lost so much, both wealth and prestige. That deserved a toast! He filled his glass, swallowed it at once and cherished the burning feeling in the back of his throat since it obscured the Mudblood's screams and the pulsating pain in his hand.

By the way, when was the last time he had heard any screams. He wondered why. Bellatrix could go on for days and nights usually. Could she be dead now? Was this really the end of the bushy-haired annoyingly ambitious and self-righteous Gryffindor? The mere thought gave him an empty feeling in his gut and he hurriedly threw another drink down his throat. And yet another one. Hopefully Mr. Whiskey could make all these unwanted thoughts go away.

Clinging to his glass he studied his room with a bitter expression. The walls were covered with magical pictures of all his small and unimportant successes during his boyhood. A picture showed a young Draco on his way to Hogwarts for the first time, wearing a new and shiny cape and wand. His parents stood beside him looking very proud. In another picture he was flying at his new broom wearing the Slytherin uniform.

All in all his room was the room of a little boy. The bed linen was Slytherin green and decorated with fierce looking snakes. The curtains had pictures of all the top professional players from the Quidditch World Cup 1994. On the massive shelves made in dark wood were several trophies and goblets. The room was long overdue a redecoration, however, he had thought it a waste of time due to him only being at home during the holidays until recently.

A few new things had found their way to his room in the recent years, for instance the bar globe and a couple of book about the importance of keeping the bloodline pure. It was a subject he had studied avidly in the recent years, but that was before he was subjected to the bat shit crazy purists in all of his waking hours.

While he was still at Hogwarts, he used to make fun of all the old family members who droned about how he ought to enjoy his student years, since it would be the best time of his life. At that time it seemed like a walk in the desert. He had longed towards the life after Hogwarts. He wanted to gain power and knowledge about the dark arts. Now he realized they were right. Hogwarts had indeed been the best time in his life so far, afterwards his life had been a downward spiral of misery. Every day his father was getting closer to a major breakdown while his mother wore increasing amounts of make-up in order to hide her bloodshot eyes from crying herself to sleep every night.

He felt a sudden burst of rage, and threw his glass against the wall making it shatter into a thousand pieces. He drank the remaining fire whiskey directly from the bottle like an ill-bred Muggle.

A pleasant, warm buzzing sensation spread in his head and in his body. With uncoordinated movements he put the bottle back in the globe and turned around in order to make it back to his bed. But all of a sudden the few meters from the bar globe towards his bed felt as an insurmountable distance. Everything was spinning around and his head felt heavy. The floor tilted and came dangerously closer, and he leaned on the wall for support while stumbling towards his bed. He felt pathetic raving around his room alone while being severely wasted. He had only meant to drink a few glasses to help him sleep, and yet he had emptied the entire bottle. Finally he made it to the bed. He collapsed into his blanket and grabbed the each side of the mattress for support, due to the room still spinning around.

"Nox", he slurred. The room went dark and shortly after Draco fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep.


	2. Torture

**A/N:** The second chapter is kind of dark, because I wanted to show the mental and physical impact of the Cruciatus curse. The emotional consequences of Bellatrix' torture is something Hermione will have to deal with later on. I have also posted a slightly revised version of the first chapter.

 **Chapter 2**

 **Torture**

Hermione POV

"CRUCIO!"

The witch with the dark curls pointed her wand towards Hermione. The tip of the wand sparkled and a pale, red beam shot out and hit her shoulder.

She immediately felt an intense heat. A vicious flame erupted from her shoulder and spread through her body. Screaming with horror she realized that she was catching fire. Every breath burned in her throat, and she had difficulty breathing. Black dots obscured her vision. Her hands and feet were blazing and she felt her skin boiling. Large blisters erupted all over her. Her robe burned deep into her skin. A nauseous smell of roasted meat made her gag and she could taste her own bile.

 _Burns it burns it burns it burns it burns it burns it burns_

All of a sudden the pain disappeared, and her torturer was moving closer to her crumpled shape on the floor.

"You filthy little Mudblood! You impure excuse for a witch! You're not worthy of associating with real, pureblood witches and wizards!"

"Go to Hell!" Hermione slurred, the dizziness from the curse slowly wearing off.

She tried to brace herself for what was to come, though without a wand she felt desperate and utterly helpless. Bellatrix was insane, that much was evident. The years in Azkaban hadn't been good to her. Her figure looked gauntly, her complexion was sallow, but her most disturbing feature was the maniacal dark eyes shining with malice.

She crooned viciously: "You're all alone in the world right now, forsaken by your so-called friends. No one is coming to rescue you."

Hermione cringed. The crazy witch hit a nerve. Why had Ron and Harry left her to fend for herself at the Manor? Why didn't they at least try to free her as well?

The deranged witch snickered. She drew a knife from her robe and grabbed Hermione's arm. The knife was made of silver and decorated with ancient runes and vicious looking snakes.

"You need to learn your place, Mudblood!"

The word Mudblood caused Hermione to burn with righteous anger. It always came down to the blood status, as if she was a lesser person due to her Muggle heritage. She was proud of her parents and the way they had always supported her despite her choosing a different path in life than them.

She retorted forcefully: "The order will find me and make you pay for your evil deeds. You'll never get away with this. Never!"

"Never, you think. Then watch me!"

Bellatrix smiled with glee and started cutting her arm. A piercing pain spread from the tip of the knife, though it was nothing compared to her recent experience with the cruciatus curse. As the cutting continued, she heard the faint drips from blood hitting the floor. She grew light headed and the world felt faint.

The piercing sensation subsided and the dark haired witch took a step back in order to admire her work of art. She nodded with a content smile.

"Not bad, huh! Now your blood status is clear for everyone to see. No more hiding! No more pretending you're one of us."

Hermione looked at mutilated her arm and could barely contain her tears from humiliation. Carved in her arm with ugly, primitive-looking letters was the word MUDBLOOD.

"Now back to the matter at hand. What have you taken from my vault, you filthy piece of rubbish?"

"We haven't taken anything from your vault. How could we ever get into your vault without a key?"

This whole situation was hopeless. Hermione tried to prepare herself for more torture to come, hoping someone would interrupt before she lost her life or worse, her sanity.

"You're lying!" Bellatrix squealed. She lifted up her wand, pointed it toward the bushy haired witch.

"Confringo!"

A large explosion erupted right in front of her with a blast. She was thrown forcefully into the stone wall from the blast, the impact crushing her left shoulder. An intense pain was erupting from her shoulder, moving down her spine, and she could barely contain a whimper. This was not good! Not good at all. In slow motion she slid down the wall and onto the damp floor, lying motionless in a bent position.

"If you keep lying to me, I will have to punish you!"

Hermione was at the brink of despair. Clearly the dark haired witch wasn't satisfied with her answers and would soon crucio her again.

"I speak the truth! Why don't you make me drink Veritaserum?" she croaked.

"Veritaserum is for pussies!"

Bellatrix' dark eyes were shining with mirth.

"CRUCIO!"

Burning pain from a thousand knifes pierced her intestines. All her muscles cramped, her body arched and her jaw locked itself in a painful grimace. Her hands and feet were severely scorched and was smoldering into charcoal. A stench of rot and decay hit her nostrils. Someplace someone was screaming, a desperate and chilling scream. It might be her. Her head was foggy from the excruciating pain. Her body was burning up in a lake of fire. Was this the afterlife? Did she die and go to Hell? Flames were everywhere, licking at her skin, torching her hair and her eyelashes.

 _make it stop please make it stop please make it stop please make it stop please_

The high pitched screaming continued. A red eyed, flaming devil with a cackling laugh pointed towards her. She was close to giving into insanity. The intense burning made her surface boil. Soon she had no skin left. She screamed for her life. Screamed, until her vocal chords failed and her lungs burned up. Scream for a salvation that never came.

All of a sudden the pain stopped and Hermione collapsed at the floor. She could hear a humming tone in her ears and in front of her were several crazy dark haired witches. She blinked her eyes a couple of times, the double vision disappeared and she was slowly able to focus. Vaguely she noted she was lying uncomfortably on her aching shoulder on the cold stone floor, however, she couldn't muster the energy to move to a more comfortable position. She closed her eyes wanting to give up and give into darkness.

An angry voice disturbed the quiet and someone was slapping her face.

"Wake up, Mudblood. We're not done yet. Where are your manners? When spoken to, you will answer! Clearly your filthy Muggle parents didn't raise you very well. What have you and your dim-witted friends stolen from my vault?"

Slowly Hermione tried to gather her bearings. She glanced at the dark haired witch and saw a disturbing image she would never forget. The dark haired with had a strange look at her face. Her eyes were intense and utterly dark, darker than usual, and her eyes half-lidded. She was moaning with pleasure, very obviously finding immense satisfaction in inflicting pain on others.

Seeing that Hermione was conscious again she resumed the interrogation.

"I want answers! Or else you'll have a taste of the Crucio once more!"

Hermione opened her mouth in order to say something, but no sound came out. Her throat was dry like a desert. She desperately tried to force herself to make a sound, all though it was in vain. How she wished to be able to utter anything which could delay the next crucio. If only her voice would cooperate...

Bellatrix looked at her with disdain. "I'm waiting."

She made frantic gestures with her arms and pointed towards her throat while trying once more to make a sound. Alas, all she could manage was a hoarse groaning.

"So you refuse to answer any of my questions. Then I have to punish you!"

Hermione shook her head violently and directed a pleading look towards her torturer, though of course it was futile.

"CRUCIO!"

 _This is it, I'm dying_. She was pierced by white knives and the flames returned with a vengeance. Again she was in a lake of fire and swimming body parts, an inferno of pain and depravity. There was only pain and suffering, it was a place without hope. The burning consumed her and she felt her sanity slip away. She was barely aware of her surroundings and all she could think of was the knives, the burning, white knives and the wicked laughter hanging in the air. Her nostrils ached from the smell of sulfur and burning flesh. Slowly her personal Hell was descending into darkness.

 _I want to die I want to die please kill me please kill me kill me kill me_

She lost the sense of time and her life was slowly fading away. She felt foggy and all, that was left, was an all consuming burning pain and a smell of corruption and decay. How could she still be alive?

All of a sudden the pain was gone. This time she lay on the floor like a corpse, barely moving and breathing. She was in a strange bubble, unable to feel her arms and legs and her thoughts were fuzzy. Her body ached and she closed her eyes and hoped to die. She had given up hope. Vaguely she felt the chill from the floor enter her body, but she was past caring what happened to her.

From somewhere far away someone was howling while grabbing her arm, but she didn't care. The words escaped her, she couldn't understand them. Her body was limp and her world was bleak. She wanted to be swallowed by the ground and die.

Suddenly she heard a male voice somewhere through the fog. It was an appalled, baritone voice.

"What have you done, Bellatrix? The Dark Lord wanted the Mudblood alive!"

"Look, she _is_ alive and breathing, her chest is moving."

The female voice sounded nervous all of a sudden.

"How was I to know she was so fragile? I was only getting started."

The male voice was filled with contempt. "When the Dark Lord required her alive, he meant alive and intact, not alive and in a vegetable state."

Hermione barely felt herself being levitated. Her hearing returned slowly, but she was still limp and unresponsive.

"For your sake I hope the Dark Lord can still use her for the purpose of the greater good, after your little cat-and-mouse game. Otherwise you'll end up like the mouse in a near future." The male voice hissed.

"Maybe you ought to watch it too", the female voice shrieked. "You might be able to fool all the other death eaters, but you can't fool me. You have been close to that demented clown Dumbledore way too long. Your loyalty isn't with us any longer."

A clipped voice answered. "I shall not have my loyalty questioned by someone like you. I will not stand for it. The Dark Lord trusts me, which he has every reason too. While you wasted your life away in prison, I did a lot of important tasks as a spy."

More bickering ensued, all the while she was levitated out of the room by the male person. A door slammed and she felt herself floating slowly through long corridors, the feeling was strangely soothing. She lost track of how far she was transported, but slowly all of her senses returned and she was able to take in her surroundings more thoroughly. She started to wonder where she was and who was carrying her. Disturbing images emerged from her memory and the smell of the lake of fire still lingered in her nostrils. A small part of her was struck with horror when all of a sudden she realized, that she might have revealed some of the Golden trio's plans to Bellatrix. All she could do was to hope she hadn't mentioned Horcruxes. But she was tired, so very tired. If only she could disappear into oblivion and never think of unforgiveable curses, Horcruxes and dungeons ever again. If only she could sleep and forget everything.

A pair of strong arms laid her down on a soft mattress. The whole thing was very confusing, and she was afraid this was some kind of a game or a scheme. Maybe they wanted her to feel a false sense of security before continuing the torture. The mere thought of Bellatrix made her sick in an instant.

Lying in the bed she opened her eyes to little slits and discovered a crooked nose and familiar greasy, black hair.

"Snape", she croaked and closed her eyes again.


	3. Inbreeding

**A/N:** Thank you very much for the reviews and for the favourites. It keeps me motivated. Please enjoy the next chapter.

 **Chapter 3**

 **Inbreeding**

Draco POV

"Ouch!"

He woke up the next morning from someone pinching his arm.

"Master Draco must wake up now. Very important meeting with Dark Lord! Master Draco must attend!"

The light from the window was way too bright. He mumbled something unintelligibly and covered his eyes with his arm, while turning around in order to continue his sleep of the dead.

The squeaky voice sounded increasingly upset. "Master Draco must rise now. Order from Master Lucius."

More frantic pinching ensued.

Draco decided to free the elf from its misery before it squirmed itself to death. "Relax, Woopy. I promise to get up now, just give me a minute," he croaked.

He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. His room wasn't spinning around any longer, but instead he now had a pulsating headache, which could barely compete with the pain erupting from his right hand. He moaned in agony. Were it not for the Fire Whiskey, he would never have slept through the night.

"Drink this, Master Draco!"

Woopy handed him a lime green potion with a strong smell of peppermint and citrus. It very much resembled the one his Slytherin friends used to drink, when they were hung-over. He made a grimace and emptied the drink in one quick swallow. Slowly the headache faded and his heart started beating faster while his hands were shaking slightly. He felt as if he had swallowed three or four Pepper-Up Potions. Unfortunately his right hand still ached.

He dressed in a hurry, grabbed his wand, left his room and walked through the long, dimly lit corridors towards the Chamber of Mirrors. The Death Eaters always held their meetings in this room, probably due to the baroque, almost royal atmosphere. The mere thought of Death Eaters and Snake Face made him remember the screams from last night. He felt a chill down his spine.

 _Bloody Mudblood and her bloody heroine complex! Why does she always have to meddle with affairs that are none of her business?_ He wondered if this was the last time he had seen the self-righteous bushy haired witch. She was probably dead now, or insane, like the Longbottoms.

He was deep into his own thoughts, when all of a sudden he hit something black and solid. He lost his balance and collapsed on the floor. The impact and the sudden stab of pain from the right hand caused him to utter a profanity.

"By Salazar", the wall uttered.

Draco glanced upwards and recognized the familiar bat like shape. "Oh, good day to you, Godfather!"

"Well met, young Malfoy. On the way to the Chamber of Mirrors, I presume?" Snape said lifting his eyebrow in an interrogatory manner.

He consented with a short nod.

"But what in Merlin's name happened to your hand. Have you been into a fight? Or maybe a brawl in a bar? You certainly smell like a liquor store!"

Draco mumbled something unintelligible about not being able to sleep.

"Give me your hand" his godfather ordered.

He examined it thoroughly, looked at Draco and curved his lips in a sardonic smile.

"Your fifth metacarpal bone is broken. This is a very classic kind if fracture. Muggles use to call it Bar Room Fracture and it's usually caused from the impact of a clenched fist with a hard, immovable object, such as a wall."

This was embarrassing and Draco scowled at his godfather. Snape grabbed his wand and started mumbling an incantation. The blond man prepared for the worst. Pain wasn't something he managed very well; in fact, someone might call him a crybaby, behind his back of course. Or else he would see too it, that they regretted it dearly. His godfather furrowed his brow while moving his wand over the hand. Draco grit his teeth as a sudden sharp pain erupted. The pain disappeared shortly after, and he carefully tried to move his fingers. He was able to bend and flex them without any problems and the constant pain was gone.

"Thank you, Godfather," he said quietly.

"Please don't mention it."

Together they hurried towards the Chamber of Mirrors, where they met with the other Death Eaters. The room was dim and flames from the magic fireplace cast light and shadow at the mirrored walls. They both sat down at the heavy, marble table. Draco found his usual place next to Lucius, who recognized his presence with a short nod.

When they were all seated, the Dark Lord arrived, followed by Nagini. They all rose immediately and bowed, while they pay their respects with a solemn "Hail the Dark Lord."

"Take a seat," Voldemort hissed, and they all sat down.

Draco braced himself before glancing at he-who-must-not-be-named. The hissing, retile voice always made shiver involuntarily, and the slit-like remnant of a nose was just plain disgusting to look at. However, when he glanced at Bellatrix at the other side at the table, he could tell, that he wasn't the only one feeling uncomfortable. Her usual cocky manner was replaced by nervous twitching and a flaky gaze.

"Bellatrix!" Voldemort droned. "You almost ruined all of my plans last night!"

The dark haired gaunt looking witch quivered. "You know I'm one of your most faithful servants My Lord. How was I to know, that you had plans for the Mudblood. I thought she was insignificant."

Voldemort's expression softened slightly. "I know that, Bellatrix. And that is why I'll only give you a light punishment. But you should have asked me before punishing the Mudblood."

Bellatrix looked duly chastened. "I realize that now, My Lord. My sincerest apologies!"

"Apology accepted. And now, the punishment," he hissed, lifting his wand.

"CRUCIO!"

The witch fell to the floor in a contorted position, her jaws locked in a scary, smiling grimace. She was frothing at the mouth. Draco tried to steady his gaze at Bellatrix all the while his fists were clenched under the table. He loathed watching the Dark Lord's punishments, all though Bellatrix had it coming. But looking away would raise suspicion.

"Enough" the snake-like man said and lifted the curse.

Pale and trembling all over Bellatrix took her seat again.

The Dark Lord continued in a business-like manner: "And now with this little episode behind us, we can begin our meeting. As you all know, securing the purity of the wizard's blood has always been of the utmost importance to me. It's what we have all fought for all these years, what many honorable Death Eaters have sacrificed their life for."

All Death Eaters nodded eagerly and there were mumblings of "Yes, My Lord" and "Hear, hear."

"But some of you must have noticed the decline in childbirths in many of the old pureblood families, the Weasleys being an unfortunately exception. Let's take a look at the Malfoys, for instance." He hissed.

Draco noticed how Lucius made a small quiver, his eyes downcast at the table in front of him.

"How come you only have one child, Lucius?" he asked rhetorically, and continued without waiting for an answer. "I hardly think it's from a lack of trying, since rumor has it that Narcissa has been with child several times. But aside from Draco she lost them all, didn't she?"

Lucius nodded quietly in reply, his complexion being paler than usual.

The Dark Lord licked his lips using his forked tongue. "The explanation is inbreeding. We need blood from outside of our circle, but in a controlled manner, of course. Constantly we must shield ourselves against the never ending threats from the Mudbloods and the Muggle lovers. However, as you all know, some of the most powerful witches and wizards have been of mixed blood, for instance I, Dumbledore…. and that insufferable Potter boy."

The assembled Death Eaters listened carefully. This was a very unusual meeting and they didn't like it much.

"The answer to our problem is in this very Manor. Imprisoned we have the brightest witch of her age, Mudblood Hermione Granger. And here, at this very table..."

The reptile-like wizard turned his red eyes towards Draco.

"..we have the eternal second best, but nonetheless member of a wizarding family with a long and proud heritage, Draco Malfoy. I am going to carry out an experiment for the Greater Good. Young Malfoy must impregnate the Mudblood in order to save the Malfoys and other pureblood families from inbreeding and extinction. The child will of course be removed from the mother shortly after its birth and raised by an honorable pureblood family. We must follow the experiment closely, and if it succeeds, we can repeat the procedure with other pureblood families."

Draco barely swallowed a profanity, when he realized what the Dark Lord had in store for him. He felt like both laughing and crying at the same time. He-who-must-not-be-named had outdone himself this time, turning Draco into some pureblood stallion, and worse, turning a certain bushy haired Mudblood into a surrogate mother. All though she was a Mudblood, she didn't deserve this. At least she was alive, and would stay that way for a minimum of nine months. But the mere thought about it... The fact that _he_ was going to... Draco couldn't end this thought. He felt nauseated and he had to blink several times in order to fight back the tears.

"But My Lord…" Lucius started to argue in a shaky voice.

"Do you have any objections to my decision, Lucius?" The Dark Lord sneered, lifting his head, the red eyes staring at Lucius in an ill-boding manner. An ice cold breeze filled the room and the fireplace suddenly flamed up, casting eerie shadows on the wall.

"Of course not, My Lord. I just wanted to tell you what a bri.. bri.. brilliant idea this is." The older Malfoy replied hurriedly in a defeated voice.

"I know that, Malfoy" was the self-congratulatory response.

The Dark Lord made a smile-like grimace. "The first coitus will take place tonight at 20 pm. Avery and Nott, you will make sure that everything goes according to plan."

"Yes, My Lord" they both replied leering.

"The meeting is over. Dismissed!"

The Dark Lord and Nagini left the room immediately. All Death Eaters rose slowly and gave each other confused looks. They didn't feel entirely comfortable with this new discourse. After a short while, they left the Chamber of Mirrors in silence.

Draco felt a slender, bony hand at his shoulder.

"Walk with me, my son!"

His father looked worse every passing day of the Wizarding War, and he was only a shadow of his usual aristocratic self. His complexion was a yellowish pale, his face gaunt and his long blond hair was greasy and lifeless.

The two blond wizards walked towards Lucius' private office. After the door was closed, Lucius thoroughly cast a Muffliato spell around them. He sat down behind the large, mahogany desk and with a heavy sigh he said "My son! We need to attend to matters of some import."

Draco seated at the other side of the desk and waited for his father to continue.

Lucius cleared his voice a couple of times and ran his fingers through his hair. Then he seemed to gather his bearings and continued: "This topic is probably more awkward to me than it is to you. Anyway, Son, I need to ask you this: Are you a virgin?"

Draco made a choking sound. "Enough, Father! This conversation is absolutely mortifying. For your information, I am certainly _not_ a virgin, though I fail to see how this is any of your business!"

"I thought so," said Lucius sounding relieved and a little proud.

"Anyway, several spells might be good to know. I have a hard time imagining that anyone, of their own free will, would want to be intimate with the Mudblood. She's probably a virgin still. If anyone has claimed her virtue, it will probably be one of those red haired blood traitors. The entire Weasley family is without taste or finesse."

"But these are unimportant details," Lucius continued. "If the silly bint is still a virgin, the Lubricantus spell will be very useful. I can teach it to you in a hurry."

Draco gave a curt nod and desperately hoped for the conversation to end.

"Furthermore, you must know the erection spell, Erigatus Fallosum, which I can teach…"

"Erection is _not_ a problem to me, thank you very much," a severely blushing Draco interrupted.

Lucius looked at him sternly. "Use that brain of yours for once, Son, you're about to have intercourse with a filthy Mudblood. I think you can use all the help you can get."

"You're right, Father," Draco said quietly, his eyes downcast.

Afterwards, Lucius taught him to do the new spells the right way. It was, of course, a purely theoretica, since it would have been extremely awkward otherwise. After a while the older wizard was confident that his son mastered the spells the correct way. When Draco was about to leave, Lucius lay his hand at his son's shoulder and said with a gruff voice:

"My Son! I only have one more thing left to say to you. Make me proud! The honor of the Malfoy family depends on you now!"

Draco refused to dignify his father's statement with an answer. Instead he left the office scowling, slamming the door loudly.

 _Make me proud!_ Draco hurried along the gloomy corridors towards his room with an angry stride. After leading his family into ruin by his fancy of the Dark Lord and pureblood supremacy, Lucius now expected Draco to assume the role of a breeding stallion, thereby saving the family honor. Well screw them! He promised himself that as soon as he was able to find a safe way to leave this Death Eater infested Manor, he would be out of here. Lucius could keep his bloody gothic manor and the family business for all that Draco cared. He loathed all the obligations of being a pure blood wizard. It wasn't worth sacrificing his personal liberty for.


	4. Dressing Up

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have chosen to follow and favourite my story, it motivates me to update faster. This chapter is leading up to the much awaited encounter between D and H, which will happen in the next chapter. And as a reply to an anonymous comment: Nice guess, I do have something like that planned, and rest assured that D and H will face many challenges both during the war and post-war. I expect this story to become 20 – 25 chapters long.

 **Chapter 4**

 **Dressing up**

Hermione POV

She was surrounded by darkness and her body was in pain. A deep voice was muttering incantations while at the same time she felt her body regenerate. Slowly her consciousness drifted away. She almost slept, when all of a sudden a stabbing pain erupted from her arm. She cried out in pain and jerked away from the greasy haired Potions Master.

"Easy now!" the baritone voice soothed. A callused and slender hand held a vial up to her lips. Skeptically she regarded its purple contents and closed her lips to a thin line.

"Your right upper arm bone was broken and dislocated. I had to mend it magically, otherwise it would misalign, hence the sharp and stabbing pain," the lecturing voice of the Potions Professor droned.

Hermione stubbornly kept her mouth shut and turned her head away.

"By Salazar, I'm not going to poison you, all though the world would probably be a better place with one less Gryffindor. It's just a harmless dreamless sleep draught. And I'll probably do a much better job healing you, if you lie still instead of squirming around."

"Why are you doing this?" she croaked.

"Healing you, you mean? I just follow orders from a higher place. It appears that he-who-must-not-be-named wants you alive."

A small part of her brain found it somewhat disturbing that the Dark Lord wanted to keep her alive for some purpose, but she was too exhausted to dwell on it. She was definitely too weak to fight right now. Obediently she opened her mouth and swallowed the purple honey flavored content in three large gulps. Shortly after her body felt warm and comfortable and her eyelids began to droop. In less than five minutes she was out like a light.

(*)

After a long sleep she was awakened by a persistent ray of light from the window over the bed. She blinked at the harsh morning light, expecting to see a lake of fire with naked, deform bodies. Instead she gazed at a daylight room with cream colored walls and large casement windows. She lay in a soft four poster bed with white, lavender scented linen. Along the opposite wall was a dressing table made in dark wood. Over the dressing table hung a magical painting of a handsome manor surrounded by a baroque garden with a fountain in the middle. Along the other wall was an antique looking bookcase, also in dark wood, and carved with snakes biting each other's tails. From her bed she noticed two doors leading out of the room.

She lay wondering where she was. She remembered little from the last couple of days, only an intense, burning pain, an evil laughter and a lake of fire. She gazed at her own body and noticed she was dressed in an elegant cream colored nightgown in a light material, probably silk. The gown wasn't her usual style, someone must have dressed her. All of a sudden she remembered Professor Snape's face and made a grimace from humiliation.

Her right arm hurt and she inspected it. It was covered in large, clumsy letters with the word MUDBLOOD. It was probably carved with a cursed knife, from which the scars would heal badly. She sighted, blinking back tears.

 _My wand, where is it!_ She ransacked the bed and the night table, and afterwards the room, but it was nowhere to be found. However she found a splendid bathroom behind one of the doors. The other door was locked.

Slowly she recalled the events from the last couple of days. She had arrived at the manor with Harry and Ron. A couple of snatchers had caught the shortly after Harry forgot himself and said The Dark Lord's real name out loud. After Bellatrix' horrible torture in the cellar she ended up here in this tasteful room. Something wasn't quite right.

While pondering over her situation, the door opened and a smiling house-elf entered.

"Welcome to the Malfoy Manor, Milady. My name's Blinky and I'm at your service. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." The little creature squealed.

"I need my wand," was the dry reply.

The elf made a nervous and high pitched laughter. "My apologies, Milady, I can't help you get your wand. But if you wish to enjoy a splendid brunch, I'll bring you one immediately."

Hermione made a short nod and the little creature left, looking relieved.

Shortly after he reappeared, and he was carrying a tray containing all kinds of delicious food. Hermione was delighted to see traditional English breakfast with bacon and egg. Furthermore there was Greek Yoghurt with honey, pancakes with syrup and blueberries, and lots and lots of freshly cut fruit. She suddenly felt hunger, probably an aftereffect from the extensive healing the night before, and ate until she was stuffed and couldn't swallow another bite.

After brunch she spent the next couple of hours being bored out of her brains. Television was not to be found in any pure blood wizarding homes, and all the books in the bookcase were about pureblood policies and pseudoscientific writings about pureblood ideas with titles such as "Pure Blood, Pure Soul" or "Pure Blood Supremacy" and "The Day I Realized the Importance of being Pure – a testimonial". Hermione was convinced that someone wanted to remind her of her unworthy blood status. In order to distract herself from the disturbing memories from her encounter with Bellatrix last night, she started counting things. She counted the trees and bushes in the garden, she counted the planks at the wood flooring and the knots. When she was about to count the knots once more, just to be sure she had the right number, she heard a hesitant knock on the door.

The person knocking on the door waited a moment for a reply, which never came. Since she considered herself a prisoner, Hermione refused to be too cooperative. The door opened and an elegant, blond lady entered. She was dressed elegantly in black and her hair was held together in a French braid. Hermione recognized her immediately from platform 9 ¾, it was of course the Malfoy matriarch, Narcissa Malfoy.

It was easy to recognize the blood ties between the two Black sisters despite the difference in colors. They both shared a superior and haughty attitude. The difference between them was that while Bellatrix had a dark and fanatical glow about her, Narcissa was more like a cold and distant snow queen. Today, however, she looked unusually frail. Her complexion was ashen and her eyes puffy and red, as if she had been crying.

"Miss Granger?" she asked hesitantly.

Hermione nodded in consent.

"Welcome to the Malfoy Manor," she said with a dull voice and blinked away some tears. "I'm going to help you getting dressed for tonight. Please take a bath and make sure to use plenty of soap. You smell like dirt and mould from the basement."

The last comment was followed by the classic Malfoy wrinkling of the nose.

"I'm waiting for you in here until you're done."

Hermione wrinkled her brow suspiciously. "Why are you suddenly so interested in my hygiene? Yesterday I was tortured most viciously by your sister down in the cellar," she said and closed her eyes in order to force the violent memories away.

The Malfoy matriarch sighed, her eyes empty. "When the time is ripe, you'll get to know everything."

The bushy haired witch raised her chin and met Narcissa's eyes defiantly. "The Order of the Phoenix knows you keep me hostage, and I assure you they do everything in their power to deliver me from here. And when I'm freed, all the people who has tortured me and kept me in prison will be prosecuted and brought to justice, as soon as the Ministry and Azkaban reopen."

Narcissa shrugged and mumbled something like "things can't get any worse, anyway".

Realizing she wouldn't get any answers from the aristocratic, blond lady anytime soon, Hermione marched to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. She undressed and entered an old-fashioned looking bathtub with cast iron claw feet, which was already filled with tempered warm water, and savored the relaxing feeling of hot water against her skin. All though being extensively healed, her body was still sore after the horrible encounter with Bellatrix last night.

Despite lying in the bathtub for a long time, Narcissa was still waiting for her as promised when she reentered her room. At the bed was a little black dress, sexy lingerie and fish net stockings. It was in sharp contrast to her usual way of dressing, since Hermione was a girl who would always prefer comfort over style. One of the things she loved the most about Hogwarts was the use of school uniforms, which meant a release from thinking about one's appearance. Instead the pupils at Hogwarts could focus upon important things, such as schoolwork and academic achievements. With narrow eyes and a furrowed brow she studied the way too short black dress, the offending red, bra and the matching thong. At the floor, next to the dress, was a pair of high-heeled fuck-me shoes.

She frowned at Narcissa. "What is this? Is this some kind of a sick joke?"

The blond witch shrugged. "Order from he-who-must-not-be-named"

"And when he says jump, you say how high."

"Do feel free to resist his command, if you dare. But I'm quite sure it will prolong your survival if you play along."

This was not good! Not good at all! Someone clearly had plans for her, which she knew nothing about. At least she had known what Bellatrix' goal was, namely to torture her in the most degrading manner. The fact that she was going to be dressed up like harlot by order of the Dark Lord was ill boding indeed. She knew she probably ought to fight back some more, being a Gryffindor and all, but she couldn't really summon the energy. Despite having few physical scars from yesterday, she felt frail and sick, and she kept having these annoyingly flashbacks of burning bodies.

After putting on the loathed pieces of clothing she was studied meticulously by Narcissa, who waved her wand and mumbled some make-up and beatifications spells, and studied her once more.

"Well, I can't do much about the arm. It's typically Bellatrix, she always behaves so theatrical and her manners are severely lacking. However, the stack of hay called hair on your head I know just how to handle." From her elegant purse she retrieved a small container with Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, which she carefully distributed in Hermione's long and bushy hair. The product had a lovely scent of vanilla and oriental spices. Narcissa combed her hair thoroughly, and as she combed, the once so bushy chestnut mane became smooth and curly.

The blond witch took a step back and examined her work.

"That will do! Now you're ready to meet my son," she said solemnly.

"What do you mean? Tell me what is going to happen! I have a right to know!" Hermione tried once more, but it was futile, since the aristocratic lady refused to answer and left the room in a hurry.

Shortly after a couple of Death Eaters entered the room and took her away.


	5. Pure Blood Ideologies

**A/N:** Thanks to all new followers and favs; it means a lot to me. Every time I receive an e-mail notification about a new follower, comment or fav, it makes my day. I'm afraid I might lose some of you after the following chapter, but I felt needed to be written this way, because the things that happens now affects the way the main characters develop later on, and it provides a background for the issues they will both struggle with post-war. And besides, I love writing this dark and angsty stuff ;)

Reply to comment from anonymous user: thanks for your comment. The following chapter will reveal some of Draco's darker character traits, but rest assured that he will get an opportunity to prove himself later on.

This chapter contains violence, dub-con and coarse language; age appropriate readers please!

 **Chapter 5:**

 **Pure blood ideologies**

Draco POV

With a grim expression Draco walked down the long and gloomy corridors towards the room where Avery and Nott waited for him, together with Hermione. It wasn't enough that he had been forced into taking the bloody dark mark. Nor was it enough, that he had been given this hopeless task of murdering Professor Dumbledore. Now he also had to impregnate a Mudblood in order to create a new and superior breed of Half Blood wizards. And not just any Mudblood, no, of course it had to be the bushy haired Granger-bint. Know-it-all Granger, who had outdone him in all of the subjects at Hogwarts besides flying. This situation was a true no-win situation. If he failed his task, he and his family would be tortured the most cruel and inhumane way until death by the hands of the Dark Lord would feel as a release. On the other hand, if he succeeded completing his task, the Order of the Phoenix would hunt down the entire Malfoy clan in order to murder them all in cold blood, of that he had no doubt. His life was one big clusterfuck at the moment.

He entered the room and gazed around. He noticed Granger sitting at a large canopy bed, and Avery and Nott resting at a couch back in the corner, and when his eyes caught the two Death Eaters, they both smirked and Nott made an obscene gesture. It appeared that someone had made a failed attempt at creating a romantic atmosphere since he also noticed a large bouquet of blood red roses and magical, flickering wall lights. The rest of the room was decorated in the Manor's usual count Dracula style. Draco swore to himself that when he someday inherited the Malfoy Manor, on condition that he was still alive at that time of course, the wall-to-wall carpets and the heavy velvet curtains would be the very first thing to burn in a large bonfire in the middle of the courtyard. The next thing to burn would most likely be the endless number of dark wooded canopy beds.

Draco clenched his jaw and acknowledged his fellow Death Eaters presence with a curt nod while mumbling the usual greeting "Hail the Dark Lord". The Death Eaters returned his greeting. Then he focused his attention at Hermione, who looked like a shadow of her former self, her shoulders raised and her gaze downcast. The dress and the stockings was clearly something she would never have chosen to wear herself, and even the generous amount of make-up couldn't hide her disheartened expression. Despite her bleak appearance the younger Malfoy reluctantly had to admit to himself, that she was still just as beautiful as she was at the Yule Ball, when she, very unexpectedly, was transformed from boring bookworm into the female half of the hottest couple at the ball. Draco remembered how, said evening, he had abstained from giving her the usual mocking comments, because he was so astonished at her sudden beauty. If only she had been a pureblood and less of a pain in the arse…

Well, back to the task at hand. Draco cleared his throat and called her name quietly in order to get her attention.

"Granger"

She looked up and regarded him sceptically with narrowed eyes.

"Malfoy! I demand an explanation as to why I'm dragged here dressed up in this absurd manner! And why do your two Death Eater friends make sexual innuendoes all the time?" she spat.

Draco sighed and sat down beside her.

"Merlin! You really have no idea of what the two of us are ordered to do now, do you?"

She shook her head.

In the far corner of the room Nott chuckled suggestively. Draco froze and clenched his fists, his eyes turning dark.

"Enjoying the show, gentlemen?!" He roared, throwing a stinging hex at Nott, who uttered a profanity in a whining voice.

"Watch the attitude, brat!" Avery replied promptly. "As the both of us know, the Dark Lord is close to losing patience with the entire Malfoy clan. Your little displays of bad behaviour won't be tolerated much longer."

Draco gave the two observers a menacing glare and waved his wand around the bed mumbling the Muffliato spell, in order to allow a private conversation. Afterwards he summoned Woopy and ordered the house-elf to bring him and Hermione a bottle of Asti Spumante and two crystal glasses.

Hermione furrowed her brow when the elf appeared, but she remained silent. Apparently she had given up on SPEW, most likely due to a lack of support from her Gryffindor friends, Draco thought with a wry smile.

The elf reappeared and put the bottle and the two glasses at the bedside table. Draco filled both glasses with plenty of the sparkling liquid, and gave one of the glasses to Hermione, who received it with a frown.

"We both need a generous amount of alcohol in our blood in order to continue this conversation. Cheers!" he remarked dryly.

"Will you explain to me what's going on then?"

Draco took a deep breath and began.

"He-who-must-not-be-named has brought to light what many suspected; that the Full Blood wizarding families are at the brink of extinction due to inbreeding."

"Good! It sounds as if he has finally come to his senses!" the dressed-up witch exclaimed.

"Not quite the way you think," the blond wizard continued, "Since he still want to banish the Mudbloods from the wizarding world."

Hermione snorted with disdain.

"But of course a teacher's pet like you would know that the Dark Lord is a Half Blood wizard. And now he plans to induce fresh blood into the old and decaying Pure Blood families and at the same time create a legendary breed of powerful Half Blood wizards and witches to rule the world. Theese powerful magicians are going to be trained by the best teachers from an early age, and will be raised in loyal and cultivated Pure Blood families."

"This sounds like some of Adolf Hitler's sickest ideas for the Third Reich", she retorted.

"Adolf Hitler? Is he a powerful magician? I can't remember ever reading or hearing about him?"

Hermione's eyes were shooting daggers.

"ARGH! Do any of you pure blood wizards pay even remotely attention in the subject of Muggle Studies?!"

"What's the point of doing that, since the entire subject is a total waste of time? Anyway, who is this Muggle named Arnold Hitler?"

"Not Arnold - Adolf! He was a cruel and vicious dictator and he wanted to create an Aryan race to rule the world. He discriminated everybody else, and his enemies were killed in extinction camps."

"But this is sick!", Draco exclaimed indignantly. "Sorting people according to race and colour of skin! How preposterous! Those Muggles are clearly insane!"

"Can't you see that you-know-who does the exact same thing, Malfoy? He divides wizards and witches according to their heritage, instead of treating everyone as equals. But he's wrong; because I'm not a lesser witch do to my Muggle inheritance since I have the same magic ability as everyone else! And the whole idea that the blood should differ due to one's heritage, is rubbish, because if you stab me, my blood looks no different from yours!"

Draco gritted his teeth. This conversation wasn't going according to plan at all. "It's not the same at all! There are great Wizards from all over the world, and renowned wizarding schools and universities in every continent like Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, Castelobruxo or Uagadou. The only thing that matters is the purity of the blood. And good manners, of course…"

Hermione suddenly froze and gazed at him with wide open eyes, looking aghast.

"So what you're trying to tell me… is that the two of us… in this very room… have to create the next powerful half blood wizard!" she exclaimed in a shrill voice.

"Don't delude yourself; I loathe the idea as much as you do. It's not exactly my dream come true to be forced into breeding with a Mudblood. But the honour of my family is at stake," he spat.

"Due to the visions of a clearly deranged, only partly human wizard, I'm forced into having coitus with my arch-enemy in order to breed some Half Blood wizard spawn. This is outrageous!"

"You might as well get used to the idea in a hurry, because it's a direct order from the Dark Lord and it will happen tonight!" Draco snarled, clenching his fists.

"Over my dead body," Hermione burst out. "I'm not doing it, and you can't make me!"

"You think I can't?" Draco said with a predatory smile. Then he put his crystal glass at the bed table and with a sudden movement he turned around, grabbing both of her hands holding them tightly over her head. Her glass fell to the parquet floor and crushed into a thousand pieces. He changed his grip, grasping both of her wrists with his one hand, while freeing the other, counting himself lucky that his godfather had healed his damaged hand so well. Hermione fought back desperately and tried to wriggle herself free; and he held his body against her in order to pacify her, when all of a sudden a knee hit his groin forcefully. For a moment he froze, his vision darkening due to the intense pain.

"You stupid bitch! I'll make you pay for this!" he bellowed, grapping her hair and forcing her head backwards. He brought his free hand up between her legs, clutching her thong tearing it apart savagely.

"Let me go", Hermione screamed with a panic-struck voice. She fought back with frantic movements, but without a wand she was helpless against Draco's strength.

The blond wizard retrieved his wand and uttered the erection spell. The effect took place immediately and it felt as if his trousers were about to explode. He had never had an erection like this before and it was almost painful. With quick movements he took his pants of, wearing only his boxers now.

"You cheap Mudblood whore! I'm going to teach you how to treat a full blood wizard with due respect!" He held her tight with his muscular body, making sure that she felt his hard-on against her groin.

A quiet snuffle caught his attention and his eyes sought the face of the witch lying under him. It was a pitiful sight, tears rolling down her cheeks smudging the make-up. What was this? The old Granger wouldn't usually give up so easily. Draco wondered what she had been subjected to by Bellatrix in the slimy crypts under the Manor. He noticed how her right arm was mutilated by a clumsy attempt at writing Mudblood. Only Bellatrix would bother to write all the letters painstakingly accurate in order to constantly remind the victim of his or her unworthy blood status. When he gazed at the crying witch under him, it was as if he finally really saw her. He noticed how she lay under him, degraded and humiliated, with her arm marred by those ugly scars, which would probably be visible the rest of her life, however long that would be. She had spent the night before being tortured by Bellatrix (the screams kept Draco awake) and now she ended up here, abandoned by her so-called friends, waiting to be raped by the one person who had bullied her the most the last six years at Hogwarts, all the while she was dressed up like some prostitute. No wonder she having a nervous breakdown.

 _Bloody Hell, I'm a fucking monster_ he suddenly realized. He was the one causing her current breakdown with his violent temper and Pure Blood ideologies. He could suddenly see himself from Grangers point of view and it wasn't a pretty sight. He saw a blond-haired fair skinned monster busy rubbing himself most barbarically against a crying young lady, who was clearly to broken to attempt any resistance. He was about to cast away all of his manners and ideals. He, who had always struggled so hard to act according to the dignity and etiquette appropriate of a Full Blood wizard arising from one of the sacred 28 families. His father Lucius would probably never give a damn if forced himself upon the girl like a Neanderthal, as long as the family was brought back into the Dark Lord's inner circle, but Draco was certain that all of the earlier Malfoy patriarchs would have been deeply ashamed of him, especially his grandfather Abraxas. He had been close to sexually assaulting an innocent young woman, and the mere thought made him feel sick to his stomach. What a truly disgusting person he was, he could never look at himself in the mirror again.

His chain of thoughts was interrupted by the drawling voice of Avery: "How's it going? Do you need any help holding her tight? She's squirming like a nest of snakes."

Draco cancelled the Muffliato spell shortly and replied: "No need for that, I've got it all under control. Just give us a moment, will you?"

He lay down next to the crying witch.

"Granger, we had a bad start! I'm so sorry!"

Hermione didn't answer him; she lay immobile staring up at the ceiling with empty eyes while tears were rolling down her cheeks. He raised his hand and was about to stroke her hair, but the unexpected movement made her flinch.

"Listen to me, Granger! I'm just as much as a victim as you are." Just as the words had escaped his lips, he realized that this was the wrong approach. _What is wrong with you Draco! Why are you trying to convince her to feel sorry for the rich little Malfoy heir, when she was the one being tortured last night?_

Still no response...

He tried another approach than self-pity: "Granger, I'm sorry, okay. My sincerest apologies! I was out of line. Oh fuck it, I was way out of line."

"This is taking way too long!" Avery exclaimed impatiently from the couch in the far corner.

Draco cancelled the Muffliato spell once more and snarled: "When I'm about sire a child to save the Pure Blood Families from ruin and extinction, I hardly think it's unfair to be able to complete the task without constant interruptions!"

He repeated the spell, and when they were able to speak privately again, he tried catching her attention once more.

"Bloody Hell, Granger, you're part of the golden trio. I didn't think you had it in you to give up so easily. Say something, please? Scold me! Hit me! Anything! I won't get mad at you, I promise. Just don't lie there passively, do something!"

When no reply ensued, he continued his monologue.

"You must have seen someone's member before. We just need to complete this one task, and then we can go our separate ways again. Or are you a virgin? Why aren't you answering any of my questions? Please tell me you're not a virgin! I thought you were intimate with Krum at the Yule Ball. Or the Weasel, sorry, I mean Weasley. Oh fuck!"

He shook her arm softly; she jerked and looked at him with vacant eyes.

"That's better," Draco continued, while a plan was beginning to take form in his head. "Now we at least have eye contact. Listen, the two of us aren't getting away from this crappy situation that easily and those two gorillas in the corner are here to make sure that everything goes according to plan, the Dark Lord's motto being 'Trust is good, control is better'. However the two of us have something in common, we both want to escape this prison. And I think we can help each other."

Hermione had stopped crying and looked at Draco with a furrowed brow.

"If you allow me to claim your virginity today, I promise you, that I'll do everything in my power to help us escape from here! I'm not without experience, and I promise you that, contrary to what you probably believe, I can be gentle."

"And how will I know that you're not lying", Hermione replied with a frail voice.

Draco was ecstatic to finally get a response.

"There are no guaranties in life, but I'm your best chance at the moment. And besides, I want to give you this as a pledge of our deal", he said, while he was tearing a ring of his little finger giving it to her.

"This is the Malfoy family ring, which is inherited from father to first born son. I received it from my father when he was sentenced to jail in Azkaban, and he hasn't taken it back yet. I think he might have forgotten it."

"And what am I to do with this?" Hermione asked sceptically.

"I would be in serious trouble if anyone learns that I have lent you the ring. This ring has several magical abilities, some of which my father Lucius doesn't even know."

He noticed how the witch was now gazing at him with deep brown eyes and a slightly open mouth. She was finally listening to him. _How very typical. Mysteries and riddles is what it takes to get that know-it-all Grangers attention._ He smiled to himself, feeling relieved that she was finally out of her catatonic state of mind.

He continued explaining: "And besides, the ring is a magical key which can open a secret escape route under the crypts. It's the only escape route not guarded by Death Eaters, so as you can see, it's impossible for me to steal away without the ring, since my family and I are prisoners in our own home at the moment."

The witch next to him said nothing in reply.

"What do you say, do we have a deal?"

Hermione put the ring on her finger and nodded quietly, bracing herself for what was to come.


	6. The Making of a Half Blood Wizard

**A/N:** This chapter was very challenging to write, and I hope that I got it right. Being new at this, I still have to find my own way of writing the more smutty parts in terms of the number of details described. I hope I managed to write the appropriate amount of details without grossing people out. That was my intention, anyway.

Enjoy the story And, if you feel like it, please leave a review. I want to improve my writing, and if I receive some constructive criticism or a piece of advice I will definitely pay attention to it, and perhaps change the text accordingly. Bear in mind though, that English is not my native language and all though I try to minimize the number of grammatical errors, I can't get rid of 'em all.

Thanks for the fav's, and thanks to those of you who put me on alert, it's nice to know that someone out there likes to read the stuff I write.

 **Chapter 6**

 **The Making of a Half Blood Wizard**

Hermione POV

"So what you're trying to tell me… is that the two of us… in this very room… have to create the next powerful half blood wizard!"

The news had hit her like a bucket of ice water. It was indeed a rude awakening that she was forced into produce an offspring with her arch enemy due to the visions of a clearly deranged wizard suffering from delusions of grandeur. She hadn't expected this scenario to unfold when she was dressed up by a tearful Mrs. Malfoy earlier today, but now it all made sense; Narcissa's downhearted expression, the dress, the sexual innuendoes from the Death Eaters.

 _How could I be so naïve?_ She had thought it all to be a malicious attempt at mocking her and to show her, that she didn't belong in the wizarding society. She had envisioned how they would parade her in front of all of the Death Eaters dressed up like some cheap tart. Little had she known that she was about to experience the ultimate humiliation and degradation by losing her virginity to her nemesis against her will. Like some surrogate mother she was chosen to give birth to next evil wizard to rule the world. The mere thought had made her blood boil; under no circumstances would she voluntarily participate in becoming a mother against her will at 18 years of age. It would be over her dead body.

Her verbal and assaults had broken Draco's calm exterior, and the situation instantly went from bad to worse when he clenched her hands in an iron grip forcing her down under him. Never before had Hermione been afraid of Draco; he had always acted like a spoiled brat, a real mama's boy. But the sight that met her eyes frightened her deeply; Draco's jaws were clenched, his lips being only a tight line, and his eyes were dark with an ill boding expression. Her heart was beating violently and she struggled against him with increasing panic, but to no avail, since he was much stronger than her, when they were fighting the Muggle way. At some point she hit him hard in the groin with her knee, which only made matters worse. In a fit of rage he violently ripped off her thong and started rubbing himself at her.

So now she was going to have her virginity forcefully claimed by her worst enemy, all the while two Death Eaters were observing them. At first she had been subjected to a night of inhumane torture by the tip of Bellatrix' wand, and now she had to go through this defilement of her as a person and as a woman. Something broke inside of her and she just resigned to her fate. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she did nothing to stop them. She became numb and her mind started shutting down, leaving only an empty shell. Everything felt surreal and she lost the sense of time and space. _Is this how it feels to be insane?_ Her consciousness was slipping away and she barely noticed how in the meantime Draco had calmed down and now tried to grab her attention.

A gentle shaking of her arm woke her up from her stupor and once more she became aware of her surroundings. She noticed the canopy bed, the flickering wall lights and a pair of worried, grey eyes. She couldn't quite place the owner of the stormy, grey eyes; her mind was still flaky. But when he spoke she recognised his voice, though her name wasn't pronounced in the usual drawling manner, it was of course the notorious Slytherin Draco Malfoy, her arch enemy, who tried only a moment ago to force herself onto her in order to create a superior half blood wizard. The memory of the recent events made her shiver, and she curled herself into a foetal position. She was tempted to give up and give into oblivion again; however her attention was caught by Draco who was unusually talkative at the moment. Hermione had spent many hours watching Draco from afar, when Gryffindor and Slytherin were in Potions classes together at Hogwarts, and even though he was an expert at delivering a mocking comment at the right time and place, he was never the small talking type, not even when he was amongst friends. Right now he was chattering away nervously.

Not until Draco mentioned the fact that the family ring was a key to a hidden corridor out of the manor, was Hermione persuaded into playing along at this crazy scheme. And besides, she couldn't see any other way out of this insane situation. When she had regained her sound mind, she realized that it would be better to cooperate and get it over with than to fight back and be forced. Because one thing was for sure, Voldemort would get his way no matter what. She was all alone in the manor, without her wand, and surrounded by Death Eaters. As a matter of fact, it could have been so much worse. She could have been forced to have coitus with Avery. Or worse, Dolohov. Though the fact that she was about to lose her virtue to Draco was bad enough as it was, since he had been her sworn enemy all of the years at Hogwarts. Constantly he and his gorilla friends had tried to make life difficult for her and her friends, Ron and Harry. And countless were the number of times he had humiliated her, calling her a Mudblood and pulling vicious pranks on her. Reluctantly she had to admit to himself that Draco had changed a lot in the months post Hogwarts. He had matured and there were nothing boyish about him any longer. He seemed more serene, yet he also had an air of depression about him. His body had always been slender, but he was no longer lanky and under his shirt muscles were showing. The childish, slightly malicious and spoiled expression was replaced by a grim, haunted expression, which made him look somewhat older.

"What's going to happen now?" Hermione asked after receiving the Malfoy Family ring. She embraced herself, preparing for the worst.

"Easy now, Granger, don't be afraid. I'm not that dangerous." He said and smiled diabolically.

She snorted and gave him a menacing glare, and Draco lifted both of his hands in a disarming gesture.

"Okay, Granger, please ignore my sore attempt at making a joke out of this. This situation is pretty fucking far from funny; it's just that I have a strange tendency to crack silly jokes at the most inappropriate moments. However, I'm not without experience, and I'll get us through this, just trust in me. The most important thing is for you to be relaxed and turned on."

Hermione glared at the two Death Eaters watching from the couch in the corner and shivered slightly. _Relaxed and turned on! That's easy for you to say._

Draco grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her deep in the eyes. "Forget about the two gorillas in the far corner of the room. It's only you and me now. Just look at me."

Hermione tried to relax as best she could and she focused on her breathing, concentrating on breathing in and out calmly instead of hyperventilating. A masculine woody scent hit her nostrils and had a calming effect on her. It also awoke other, strange feelings, which she couldn't put into words.

"But how exactly will we escape from here? Because I don't suppose those two gorillas will let me out of their sight any time soon..." she said, furrowing her brows.

Draco caressed her tamed hair with an absentminded expression. "I haven't planned all the details yet... But I promise you this: we will find a way out somehow. You have the Malfoy Family ring on your finger as a guarantee that I'll keep my part of the deal, for without the ring, I'm stuck here too. The Dark Lord has been very disappointed in the entire Malfoy family of late, and neither I nor my father has been sent on any missions outside of the manor."

Even though she reluctantly had to admit that she had no other options than to play along, she still didn't care much for this situation. Through her entire time at Hogwarts she had perceived Draco as a first class arse. Or more precisely, the king of first class arses. And all of a sudden he showed this entirely new side of himself, and she didn't know what to make of it. _I wonder if he's always like this towards his friends and family._ Hermione liked this new Draco much better, however she was still not sure whether she liked him enough to be okay with him claiming her virtue. Right now she just had to focus her attention on doing what's necessary to survive and to be with Harry and Ron again. The thought of Ron made her heart ache. Would their fragile, arising romance survive what was going to happen now? It was with conflicted emotions she thought of Ron and Harry. The two other members of the Golden Trio were her only family left ever since she erased herself from her parent's memory, and she couldn't grasp how they were able to abandon her here at the manor, alone to suffer a horrible fate amongst the Death Eaters. Why hadn't they done more to retrieve her? Maybe they thought she was following right behind the night they escaped, and when they found out she was left at the manor, it was too late to turn back. Most likely they had a valid explanation, nevertheless she felt abandoned and alone, and it hurt. However, she needed to push these feeling away in order to survive right now. Later on, if she succeeded in escaping the manor, she would have plenty of time to dwell on things; right now she needed to focus upon the task at hand.

Her chain of thoughts was interrupted by Draco who resolutely turned towards her and cupped her cheek. "You think way too much. Try to give that intelligent brain of yours a rest for the moment," he said with a teasing smile.

He briefly touched her lips with his mouth, giving her a chaste kiss, while tracing her jaw with his thumb. She felt his stubbles against her soft chin and was overwhelmed by his masculine woody scent. Much against her will, she felt something stirring in her groin.

Draco kissed her again, and this time he demanded entrance with his tongue. She furrowed her brows and retreated. This was unexpected.

"Open up for me, Granger," he begged, his voice hoarse.

She did as told. Draco grabbed her neck and drew her closer, while kissing her eagerly, his tongue exploring and teasing. And she couldn't help kissing him back. She gazed into his insistent grey eyes, which were darker now, almost black. Her vision darkened and she felt lightheaded, while the drawing sensation became stronger. She was surprised by her bodily reactions, wasn't this just something to be done with?

Draco gently pushed her around to lie on her back and traced her neck with kisses. Delightful shivers went down her spine, when he bit her left earlobe. With skilled hands he peeled off the little black dress, the high heeled shoes and the fishnet-stockings, greedily taking in the sight of her bosom still encased in the red bra. Hermione lifted her upper body and brought her hands behind her back in order to open it.

"Lie down," Draco said resolutely, his eyes shining with mirth. "I'm the one to undress you. Every now and then at Hogwarts I dreamt of ribbing of the boring school uniform in order to bring out that feisty kitten I know resides inside of you."

 _So he used to fantasize about me at Hogwarts. Who would've guessed that?_

In a split second the bra was removed. Hermione felt his intense gaze and self-consciously she tried to cover her too small and boyish breasts by hugging herself. She was extremely conscious of the fact that she was now entirely naked.

"Just perfect!" Draco mumbled with a gruff voice and he gently removed both of her arms, placing them behind her head.

He kissed her armpit, moving down towards her breast while massaging the other breast gently. Hermione savoured the feeling of his hands callous from Quidditch.

She took in the sight of him. He was actually quite handsome with his medium length, dishevelled blond hair and broad, marble chest. Why hadn't she noticed before? Was it because they had been sworn enemies for so many years? Or was it the everlasting competition in the classroom between the two of them, which had blinded her for the fact that Draco was a very attractive man?

With his tongue he circled her nipples while Hermione barely suppressed a moan. His tongue traced further down towards her private parts. Earlier this year Ginny had convinced a very reluctant Hermione to start shaving down there, and since then she had always kept her pubic hairs trimmed with the exception of a small landing strip. Right now she was thankful for Ginny's piece of advice; despite her lack of interest in clothing, she had her pride and she wouldn't want to appear sloppy.

She suddenly felt her nudity very strongly when Draco's face approached her sex. The pleasant quivers disappeared, and were replaced by an increasing anxiety of what was going to happen. The realization that her arch enemy was now gazing at her most private place hit her like a ton of bricks. And moreover, the two of them were going to do _it_ in a creepy gothic room under the watchful eye of two Death Eaters. The day before she had been tortured into the brink of madness by Bellatrix, and now she was forced into intimacy with Bellatrix' nephew; the mere thought of it all made her feel nauseated and she started shaking uncontrollably.

"Why are you so tense all of a sudden, Granger? What's happening?"

A pair of worried grey eyes looked at her.

"It's nothing," she mumbled, avoiding Draco's gaze. "Let's just get it over with."

She was embarrassed that she wasn't able to just pull herself together like a grown person. Plenty of girls at Hogwarts had sex and she was probably the only one who made a big deal out of it. She had saved herself because she had this romantic notion that her first time had to be memorable and with someone she loved, most probably Ron. This would indeed be memorably, she thought bitterly. _Stupid, stupid, naive girl,_ she chided herself. And so what if this situation was awkward and she was forced into sleeping with her enemy? She really had no choice if she wanted to have a chance of surviving, and that was all that mattered. No one of sound mind would accuse her of cheating on Ron, she tried to convince herself. And besides, she and Ron weren't in an actual relationship yet. A Gryffindor like herself should be able to handle a little pain she thought with a shiver. If only it wasn't her first time. If only she somehow knew what to expect.

Draco clenched his jaw looking somewhat hurt.

"We're not going to just _get it over with_. I promised to be gentle; but I can't make it right for you if you're not honest with me."

"It's just that... itsmyfirsttime. And I'm scared that it will hurt very badly."

"Oh, it's only that. Nervousness I can work with. You almost told me before that it was your first time, and I'm prepared to take it slow."

He waved his wand while chanting a Hot-Air-Charm, and soon after Hermione felt the warmth from the tip of his wand. She stopped shaking, feeling more at ease.

"It's quite normal to be nervous when it's the first time. But rest assured; a Malfoy always knows how to satisfy a lady. That's one of the things we're famous for," he said with a cocky smile.

 _His overconfidence knows no bounds,_ she thought with a wry smile.

Dracos arrogant manner made her slightly annoyed instead of scared, which probably was the intended effect. She rolled her eyes hiding a small smile. He certainly was a Slytherin through and through.

"You're scared because you use to be in control and now you're not. And right now your task is to let go of the need to be in control of everything. I know it's difficult for someone like you," he said with a teasing smile while trailing her thighs with his fingertips. "But I need you to relax and hand over the control to me. I know that your situation... our situation... sucks arse at the moment, but I promise you, this, at least, will be good."

To Hermione it sounded as if he tried to calm both her and himself.

With a smooth movement he spread her legs and started caressing and teasing her sweet spot. Hermione tried her very best to relax; she closed her eyes and savoured the feeling of his skilled hands on her most private and previously untouched parts.

His movements became more rhythmic as he continued rubbing her knob with two fingers. A warm sensation spread from her private parts to her thighs. She moaned and wriggled under his touch.

 _Merlin, this feels incredible._

When she felt a tentative finger enter her core, she opened up her eyes shortly and was caught by a sight she would never forget. Draco was staring at her intently with dark, wide open eyes and a hungry expression.

He moved his head down between her loins. Suddenly she felt a probing from something soft and moist and she jerked away immediately and lifted up her head. Did he actually _lick her_?

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" she said, sounding upset.

The pleasurable warm feeling in her groin had vanished into thin air.

Draco sat up next to her, putting his strong arm around her shoulders.

"Cunnilingus! The ancient art of satisfying a woman by oral stimulation of her sex. Do you want to try this?" he asked, his gaze downcast, as if he was insecure all of a sudden.

Hermione hesitated and gazed at him with narrow eyes. "But isn't this really... disgusting... for you to lick me... _down there_?"

"Not at all! As long as the lady is clean and tidy, it's one the best things I know. No two women are alike, so it's like opening a gift every time. A very precious gift!"

"Okay, do it then," Hermione said lying down next to him again.

For starters it was hard for her to relax and loosen up. She was taken aback that anyone would want to lick her _there._ She felt his adept tongue probing and tasting her labia's and fold's, apparently exploring her. From time to time he uttered a low, throaty growl which Hermione found very arousing. The idea, that he was licking her private parts and actually seemed to enjoy it, gave her a confidence in her own body that she had never felt before.

In time he focused his attention more and more on her clit, swirling and teasing with his tongue in a rhythmic manner. The warm feeling in her loins returned and a pleasurable sensation was rippling through her body. He thrust his tongue against her knob more forcefully, torturing her in the most pleasurable way. Her sex was throbbing and a tension inside of her was building up, longing for its release. She arched her hips upwards willing him to continue licking her harder and faster while trembling from unreleased pleasure.

Draco slowly pushed his finger into her again; it hurt a little and she involuntarily flexed her muscles.

"Try to relax, Granger," he said hoarsely. "I'm preparing you for what's to come. This way it'll hurt less when I enter you."

He kept his finger immovable all the while he was still stimulating her with his tongue. She was willing herself to relax. After a while, she had gotten used to the feeling of his finger inside of her and he started rubbing her sweet-spot from both inside and outside, using his tongue and his finger. She moaned with pleasure from the pulsing and a throbbing sensation building up in her sex, and the feeling was almost unbearable. All thoughts of Death Eaters, Horcruxes and imprisonment had vanished; now her only focus was how to get a release of the building tension inside of her. She thrust her head from side to side groaning unintelligibly while clinging to the mattress with her hands. Never before had she felt this kind of urge.

"Granger, I think you're ready for me now." Draco was panting heavily and he made a discrete movement with his wand mumbling "lubricantus".

"I... don't think... I need that... " Hermione stuttered, when she felt a moist sensation between her legs.

He spread her thighs and looked at her with a pained expression:

"I've promised to do what's in my power to make this experience as bearable for you as I possibly can," he said quietly.

He slipped of his boxers and entered her with calm movements. She felt stretched inside and it hurt a little, but at the same time she was so aroused right now, and she just wanted to feel him. She had been so very close when he used that wonderful tongue of his on her, and she wanted release more than anything.

He continued to push deeper into her, sliding back and forth slowly, while instructing her gently to relax and let go. It was a strange feeling, having someone inside. She still hurt a little down there from being dilated; but other sensations started to emerge too from deep inside of her. A throbbing sensation and she needed more.

"So tight. So very tight," he mumbled with a husky voice and looked as if he was in agony.

Hermione took in the sight of him as he towered over her. He looked like a Norse god with his lean, muscular body and his dishevelled slightly sweaty blond hair. For some reason he still kept his shirt on.

She lifted her hips upwards in order to invite him to thrust into her deeper and faster. Draco's jaw was clenched and he looked like someone exercising a great amount of self-control. This was getting unbearable. Her release was again close, yet still out of her reach. This wouldn't do.

"Draco... I want... I want to... Please," she rambled unintelligibly.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not... hurting me... need to feel you..."

He drove into her more forcefully, burying himself deep inside of her. Every thrust sent quivers through her body and the tension in her groin was building up. She whimpered and held on to him for dear life, reaching under his shirt and scratching his back with her fingernails.

Draco growled, letting go of all his inhibitions. He wasn't holding back any longer. It was better than anything she had ever experienced before, yet still almost unbearable. She was close now. So very close. As he drove deep into her once more, she was swallowed by an all consuming wave and she screamed from pleasure. She let go and allowed her body to be absorbed by the convulsions. As the rhythmic spasms subsided, she faintly heard Draco growl loudly as he came. From faraway she registered him demounting and laying down beside her.

She was blissfully spent right now, in a way she had never tried before. With her eyes closed and a small smile playing at her lips she enjoyed the feeling of utter contentment. It was as if the two of them were in a small bubble, which protected them from the harsh realities of life for a short while.

"Draco, this was... actually great... thank you," she said quietly.

"Easy now, Hermione. I can't handle all this praise," he said with mock embarrassment.

 _Draco._ She tasted the name. When did he actually become Draco? She couldn't remember agreeing on calling each other by the first time, it had just happened unnoticed. Somehow it felt quite natural after sharing such an intimate experience. All though the encounter was forced, he had done everything in his power to make it bearable after their little agreement concerning the Malfoy Family ring. He might be a giant arse most of the time, but she would never forget the gentle and reverent way he had claimed her virginity. He had cared so much about her well being, making sure that she was properly turned on and that her first time hurt as little as possible. For a short time she had felt like a goddess. Or rather like a sex-goddess, she thought wryly.

She turned to her side, wanting to spoon him, when she discovered small droplets of blood on the back of his shirt.

"Oh my, Draco, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I was hurting you."

"I knew you were feisty. I just knew it," Draco answered with a lazy smirk.

He turned around towards her and cupped her cheek.

"Don't apologize! It turned me on!"

They lay together as long as they were allowed, savouring the moment together.


	7. Disgrace

**A/N:** And the harsh world comes crashing down on the two lovers again. How will Draco cope with his guilt? And how will Hermione cope with her traumatic experiences? Read along and find out; I have lots in store for the two of them in the future.

 **Chapter 7**

 **Disgrace**

Draco POV

Draco was in a calm and relaxed state and for once enjoying life, if only for a short while. He relished in the heat from Hermione's naked body while he absentmindedly glanced at the flickering lights and shadows from the magical candle lights. The witch beside him looked like a goddess with her flushed cheeks and slightly messy hair. He savoured her natural scent of musk and vanilla. Even when sweaty, she smelled divine. This moment was just perfect.

"GET UP, LOVEBIRDS! This dalliance has taken way too long. I had no idea that a Malfoy could be so incredibly slow. No wonder the purebloods are threatened by extinction."

The crass voice of Avery cut through the room and the perfect moment was ruined. Hermione jerked away from him with a sudden movement, leaving his side cold and empty.

"Lumos", the Death Eater said, waving his wand. A ball of lightning emerged from the tip of his wand, and the light in the room went from semi-dark to blindingly bright. At the very same time the magical candle lights were put out and a cold breeze swept the room.

Draco became embarrassingly aware of his nakedness and with quick movements he put on his pants and his cape. He stole a glance at Hermione, her cheeks were a deep shade of crimson and she dressed with frantic movements. To his satisfaction he noticed that the Malfoy Family Ring was secure on her left ring finger; the ring, of course, was magical, and adapted itself to the size of the bearer's finger. Now he just needed to find a way to get them out of here unseen. Sadly this was no easy task. Despite the fact that the entire Death Eater community crashed at the Manor, eating their food and dirtying their floors, the Malfoy's were nevertheless in bad standing, and just demanding access to her without a valid explanation wouldn't do. Besides, and more importantly, he had no clue as to where she was kept imprisoned. And asking a lot of people about her whereabouts would most likely raise suspicion.

When Hermione was mostly dressed, Nott moved next to her with resolute steps and held her arm in an iron grip.

"Follow me, your filthy Mudblood cunt," he snarled.

The Muggle born witch looked dejected, her eyes glassy and her shoulders slumped forward.

Draco grit his teeth and had to resist an urge to test whether he could still perform a solid Cruciatus curse, the way Bellatrix' taught him last summer. It would be sheer joy to see the mocking smile crumble on Nott's ugly face, being replaced by an expression of horror.

 _But why do I care about the wellbeing of a filthy Mudblood?_ He used to be one of the pureblood fanatics and now he didn't know what he was any more. Or what he believed in. Everything was falling apart; and what he once believed to be the truth had turned out to be a major deception. He already started questioning the ideology of pure blood supremacy when he was given the hopeless assignment of murdering professor Dumbledore, but not until he had actually lived together with snake face and his inner circle, did he realize what kind of crazy psychopath they were following.

And besides, it wasn't just any Mudblood who stood next to him looking broken. It was Granger, the brightest witch of her age, his long lasting nemesis and the most beautiful witch to claim the dance floor at the Yule Ball of 1994. She had been a constant, annoying factor in all of his Hogwarts years, and he wanted her to continue to exist, being unable to imagine a world without her in it.

Without the Death Eaters noticing, he grabbed her hand, giving it a slight squeeze. She squeezed back and seemed to regain her composure, lifting her head up high, wearing a defiant expression.

Nott started dragging her out of the gothic looking chamber and into the corridor outside the room. Draco listened to the steps, waiting until they were near the end of the corridor before he followed.

His state of happiness had vanished into thin air and instead he felt an increasing amount of self-loathing. This recent encounter had given him one more thing to add to his title; Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater, (almost) murderer, trained in the art of Unforgiveable Curses and now also a rapist. The thought of the amount of disgrace he had inflicted upon himself made him feel sick to his stomach.

He _had to_ make sure Hermione got safely out of here, if he were to regain just a tiny bit of his self-respect. Afterwards, if he was still alive, he intended to run away to somewhere warm and drown himself into a jar of Fire Whiskey until he had forgotten everything about Snake Face, Death Eaters and Unforgiveable Curses.

The Death Eaters and Hermione turned the corner at the end of the long and gloomy corridor. Draco started to run, his steps as light and quiet as possible, and he just made it around the corner in time to see the three of them disappear into a room halfway down the corridor. _So it was in the guest chambers they held her imprisoned!_ Draco had expected her to be locked up in a damp prison cell in the crypts. But apparently they had moved her since last night, when Draco was kept awake by her heartbreaking screams. The mere thought made his skin crawl.

He made a mental note of what door they entered and then disappeared the same way he came. Now was the time to plan her escape. Focusing on escaping the manor prevented his thoughts from wandering into areas he would rather not think about. In other words, it obscured the little voice inside his head constantly screaming _rapist_ at him. As of now he knew where Hermione was being kept, the next step would be to find the one guarding the room and fabricate a plausible explanation for why he would need to gain entrance to her room.

Bloody Hell, he missed her already. There was no denying that despite her blood status he had feelings for her, though he was absolutely certain that these feeling would never be returned. What they just shared had been extremely awkward, yet also unlike anything he had ever tried before. The times he had done it with Pansy it had always felt like two people masturbating together, each one of them focused on their own wants and needs. Hermione's beautiful brown eyes and her vulnerability had awoken a need in him to become a better man. Someone Abraxas would have been proud of. He had really wanted to please her and for the first time ever since he lost his virginity, he had actually been somewhat nervous. For some reason she made him strive to do his utmost.

 _But who are you trying to fool?_ He thought bitterly. _It might be that you, Draco, had a very unique experience, however, you can be certain that Hermione had a whole other kind of unique experience. Not everyone had the 'privilege' of being taken against their will the first time. She did what she had to survive and nothing else._

 _Rapist, filthy rapist,_ the voice inside his head started chanting again. He just had to bring her out of this madhouse, or else he wouldn't be able to fucking live with himself anymore.

Absorbed in his gloomy thoughts he hadn't noticed that his steps had led him to the kitchen wing, where the house elves resided. As a child he had often sought refuge amongst the elves when he had displeased his father, who believed in a firm and old-fashioned education. As everybody knew, the Malfoy clan could be traced back to Merlin's age, and all though Muggles, as far as Draco knew, had banned physical punishment, it wasn't an unusual practice amongst the ancient pureblood families. Little children usually received a spanking when naughty, older children received a magical punishment like for instance Dolores Umbridge's blood quill, bouts of eczema or other personally designed curses.

Thinking of magical punishments, Draco remembered an episode from his childhood, back when he was 12. It was one of those extremely boring summer days, in which the holiday seems endless and you long for the school to start up again. Draco's friend and fellow Slytherin, Theodore Nott had been visiting, and from a lack of anything better to do, the two of them decided to go for a walk to the nearby village of Wilton. At the town square in Wilton the two friends had met a couple of Muggle girls, who was sitting next to a fountain, eating something from a brightly coloured back and laughing out loud once in a while. The two Muggle girls did actually look quite nice, dressed up in little skirts, wearing tons of makeup and Theodore and Draco started talking to them. How they laughed when Draco told them that they were both wizards and went to a wizarding school. They giggled and eyed each other and the bravest one of them, a chubby brunette with big tits, claimed, that they indeed were vampire hunters and that they were called Buffy and Willow. However, with the knowledge Draco had of vampires, he seriously doubted that those two quite ridiculous girls would in any way be capable of slaying a vampire. Theodore was slower on the draw, though when he realised that the two girls cracked jokes at their expense, he quite obviously felt the need to impress them and prove them wrong. The fool grabbed his wand and started to conjure fireballs in different colours, which didn't have the desired effect, because the girls still didn't believe they were capable of doing anything magical. They just giggled louder, obviously assuming that the magical fireballs were so-called 'fireworks', a Muggle concept Draco was mostly unfamiliar with.

The pleasant afternoon came to an abrupt ending when Lucius showed up out of nowhere. By Salazar, Draco had never seen him this furious. His lips were a tight line, his eyes dark and ill boding and his hands were clenched into fists. He didn't yell and create a scene, since this would have been disgraceful behaviour for a pure blood wizard, but there was no doubt that Theodore and Draco had done something unforgiveable. The two boys were dragged into a deserted alley, from where they side-along apparated with Lucius back to the manor. Theodore Nott was sent to his own home by floo immediately and when Draco and his father were alone, Lucius had cast a pox-inducing curse at him, making Draco's entire body erupt in hideous pus-infested abscesses. This was Lucius' idea of showing Draco how disgusting and filthy you became by associating with Muggles. Covered in abscesses he spent the entire night in the crypts as a punishment for using magic in front of Muggles. It was weeks before he met with Theodore Nott again, and Draco assumed he had been subjected to a similar punishment because his Slytherin friend was unusually quiet long after. They had never talked about this episode since then.

The relationship between him and his father had never been the same since then. Draco had many good memories of his father from when he was a little boy. Quite often he followed his father on business trips to Diagon Alley, and once in a while to more shady businesses in Knockturn Alley. They had been to Quidditch tournaments together all over England. As a little child he adored his father and wanted to become a man like him someday. However in the months prior to the episode in Wilton, his father had become more distant and troubled and it was also around that time it became clear that he-who-must-not-be-named had survived, all though it was questionable whether his current state of being could be considered living. The brutal kind of punishment Draco received made it clear to him that his father had changed, and not for the better. Of course Draco knew he and Nott deserved to be punished, they had broken the law revealing their magic to the two Muggle girls, but lying alone at a cold and hard stone floor covered in infected abscesses for an entire night was downright cruel. Narcissa was ordered to stay away, so she sent Dobby the house elf to keep an eye on him regularly. He spent the first part of the night crying like a little girl and later on he just gave up and drifted into apathy. He might have been unconscious some of the time, though he didn't remember all of the details. However he remembered being treated by the family healer, who was summoned the next day, the healer looking furious while Narcissa was red-eyed and looked as if she had aged ten years in one night. Despite the number of healing spells the healer cast upon him, Draco spent several days with pneumonia, coughing up endless amount of greenish phlegm. Ever since then, he stayed away from the crypts whenever he could, and a part of him started despising his father.

The kitchen wing was one of the homiest places at the manor, since the elves had ruined the gothic appearance of the manor with their penchant for strange decorations. The placed looked somewhere between a flea market and a fairground. At the walls hang eerie colourful installations, made from several discarded items and lit up by house elf magic with lightning balls and glitter.

Draco was absorbed in his own thoughts when he noticed pieces of a conversation between two elves.

"... must bring food to Mudblood girl at 18 o'clock. Mistress will dine with her."

"Why Mistress dine with Mudblood?" was the nosy reply.

"House elves no business with wizard world. Keep low and do your duties. What Mistress do is Mistress' business," the first elf scolded.

The Mistress had to be Narcissa. So it appeared she had access to Hermione, a fact Draco could very likely take advantage of. He could only hope that his mother wouldn't get into trouble afterwards, should they ever escape successfully.

Well it couldn't be helped. If Hermione remained at the manor much longer, it would most certainly break her, of that Draco was certain. And regrettably he was part of the reason for that. He owed it to the memory of his grandfather to do everything in his power to free her and hand her over to Pothead and the Weasel in as good shape as possible. After this, should he succeed, he would travel as far away as he could without looking back. Right now his family was falling apart and he couldn't see himself living in England any longer regardless who won the war, the Dark Lord or the Order of the Phoenix. Amongst the Death Eaters he would become known as blood traitor, and amongst the Order he would become known as a rapist, which technically was the truth. How he hated his sorry excuse for a life...


	8. Dinner for two

**A/N:** I apologize for the long wait. Serious events happened in my nearest family, and it took away all of my energy for a long period of time. Now I'm almost on the other side and more than ready to continue this little fic

 **Chapter 8**

 **Dinner for two**

 _Hermione POV_

The door to her room opened up and in strode Narcissa Malfoy. At the exact same moment two house elves appeared out of nowhere, summoning a small table, two chairs, a checkered tablecloth, wine glasses, porcelain and silverware. Everything looked neat and elegant and in the middle of the table the elves put a crystal vase with white lilies. The elves vanished and returned shortly after, bringing the starter, which was soup filled with blue mussels.

"I wanted the two us to dine together, Miss Granger, since we're almost family now," she said, wrinkling her nose slightly when pronouncing the word family.

The aristocratic lady made a gesture encouraging Hermione to sit down. Then she thoroughly cast a Muffliato spell at every wall, loft and floor.

Fortunately the family ring was secure in Hermione's pocket. As soon as she had heard someone at the door, she had hid it.

"Moules Marinères for starters, darling! I hope it suits you. Our house elves bring fresh caught mussels from local fishermen in South Hampton."

"It looks delicious," Hermione answered politely and tasted the soup. The experience was somewhat different from the vile camp food she, Harry and Ron had eaten the last many months.

A house elf appeared, filling both of their crystal glasses with white wine.

"Chardonnay with the starter, my dear! In most areas wizards have superior powers, compared to the Muggles, but unfortunately we can't manufacture good wine magically. Several alchemists have tried during the ages, and the result has been everything from dull to outright disastrous."

 _Hah! Hell has certainly frozen over. This proud and ancient pure blood family must humiliate themselves into buying wine from the Muggles,_ she thought, while smiling politely. She had no doubt that the Malfoy matriarch dined with her for a reason, and she waited patiently for her to reveal her real motives.

Narcissa continued small talking about several subjects, for instance the Malfoy Family Chateaux in France, the local winegrowers, summer holidays at the Riviera, the many challenges concerning restoring the Manor due to the numerous of old curses embedded in the walls and in the secrets chambers. Hermione listened attentively, nodded at the right times and in turn told about her holidays in Italy with her family, and about her parents and their job as dentists, which the blond witch obviously had no clue about. She of course made sure not to tell anything too detailed or concrete about them.

Mrs Malfoy acted like the perfect host, despite the resentment Hermione knew she felt toward her blood status and her Muggle relatives. She was polite and sociable and her manners perfect. The Muggle boys in Hermione's class pre-Hogwarts would most likely have named her a MILF. Despite having a son Hermione's age, she still looked youthful due to her smooth, porcelain skin and slender figure. She always oozed of class and timeless elegance. However Hermione also noticed the dark shadows under her eyes, which were hid behind a thick layer of make-up. It was safe to say the last couple of years had been rough on her.

 _That should teach her not to follow you-know-who and his crazy, discriminating pure-blood ideologies,_ she thought with a frown.

Hermione of course was under no illusion that Mrs. Malfoy visited her luxurious prison in order to have a girly chat about summer holidays and chateaux's. Being a Malfoy, and therefore also a Slytherin, she of course had a purpose for her visit, which would sooner or later appear. Since Hermione had nothing better to do at the moment, she enjoyed the food and wine and waited patiently for the blond witch to get down to business. As of now, the starter had been replace with the main course, a smooth and mouth watering Coq au Vin accompanied by a tempered glass of Pinot Noir. They were well into the main course, when Draco's mother finally revealed the real purpose of her visit. She gazed directly at Hermione with her ice blue eyes and said:

"I hope you realize that Draco would never of his own free will have molested you in this terrible way. He has no more choice than you, concerning these matters."

Hermione's cheeks reddened.

"It must be really hard for him being forced into having a child with a Muggle born," she said sourly.

Narcissa tried in vain to suppress and annoyed sigh and continued:

"Darling, this was not what I meant. Of course there is no doubt that Lucius and I prefer that Draco marries a witch of appropriate upbringing, when it is time for him to start a family. No offence intended, of course! After all, the Malfoy clan is one of the sacred 28 families, and our ancestors can be traced all the way back to the age of Merlin. But we are not barbarians! Lucius and I have tried our very best to raise Draco to have manners appropriate for a wizard of his social standing."

"Then how come you and your family follow a wizard preaching an ideology, which is the exact opposite of all the ideals you were supposed to follow."

"Miss Granger," Narcissa said quietly, paling visibly. "I didn't come here to defend the ideologies of him-who-must-not-be-named. Those I hear way too much about all the remaining hours of the day. Anyone with eyes can see that Lucius and I... we're already doomed. Lucius has participated in... Unforgiveable acts... At the moment we are prisoners in our very own Manor, which one day, probably in a near future, will become our mausoleum. But Draco is young. He can still have a future if the Dark Lord is defeated some day."

This wasn't how Hermione expected this visit to proceed. She hadn't expected this honesty from this usually so cold and distinguished lady. And why did she expect the Dark Lord to be defeated. What insider information did she have about the fighting spirit of the Death Eaters.

As if she read Hermione's thoughts, she continued:

"It's not as if I believe the battle between the Dark Lord and the Order of the Phoenix to be over anytime soon... Nor is it because the Death Eaters show signs of weakness... But a man like Vol... him-who-must-not-be-named... If one studies the History of Magic, it contains several of this kind of wizards. Charismatic wizards, who have an ideology and a clear agenda... They all make the same mistake which is they fail to know when to stop. They become power-hungry, paranoid, treat their followers badly and they fight a war of several frontiers. Sooner or later that kind of empire is bound to collapse, either from the inside by rebellion or assassination, or they are defeated by their enemies due to an increasingly unrealistic belief in its own abilities."

Again Hitler was the obvious example... Or Stalin for that matter... But Hermione didn't find it worth the trouble to say anything, since Mrs. Malfoy most likely had no clue of who the most deadly Muggle warlords of the twentieth century were.

"Sooner or later the Dark Lord will fall. And when that time comes I hope that you will not think too badly of my son Draco. Especially not because of an event, which were never meant as a personal attack at you, Miss Granger."

Now Hermione grasped the real reason behind Miss Malfoy's visit. She worried about her son and the repercussions he would most likely face after the Wizarding War.

"I don't bear a grudge against Draco. Not anymore. Other people have hurt me way more," she answered and shivered, while thinking of flames, burned limbs and an all consuming darkness.

"I want you to know that the most important thing in my life is Draco and my main priority is to make sure that he survives all this," the aristocratic witch said, making a circular gesture with her tiny, manicured hand. "Lucius and I, we have already condemned ourselves. When this is over, we're going to spend the rest of our lives in a dungeon in Azkaban, unless of course the Dark Lord manages to murder us before that happens. But Draco, he _must_ live."

The last sentence was accompanied by a steely gaze. After a short while Miss Malfoy continued:

"I know that Draco... my son... he will have to fight. Unfortunately, that can't be avoided. But the thing he has done to you... The things he is forced to do to you... If this is widely known, the order of the Phoenix will slaughter him, wizarding war or not."

The Dark Lord had quite viciously signed Draco's death penalty, of that Hermione was sure. However, Hermione had her own reasons why she didn't want anyone from the order to know what had transpired. When she thought back at her and Draco's short and intimate encounter, she felt a rush of blood to her head and her knees went soft. If she closed her eyes she could still imagine the intense feeling of skin against skin and the seducing movement of the tongue. Oh, that lovely tongue... But this was all wrong, because the act was forced upon her against her will. So what was wrong with her? Why did part of her enjoy it? This couldn't be normal behaviour, it had to be some kind of crisis reaction caused to Bellatrix' horrible torture. Maybe she was suffering from Stockholm syndrome. She didn't have a clue as to how she could explain her mixed feelings about the whole episode to her friends, which was why she hoped it could remain a secret, should she ever escape.

She raised her head and her gaze was caught by a pair of ice blue and awaiting eyes. It became clear to her, that lady Malfoy expected an answer.

Hermione suddenly felt tired to death. She had always perceived Narcissa as an ice queen, cold, snobbish and distinguished; engrossed with pureblood culture and ideology; engaged in the status and appearance of the Malfoy family. And the blond lady was indeed all of these things. But she was also a family person and a protective mother. Behind the cool exterior was a fierce loyalty and passion against the people she loved. Hermione wasn't certain that she had the energy to get to know the many layers of this woman. It was much easier when witches and wizards were either good or evil. All those grey areas made life so incredibly complicated. How could this woman believe in all these crazy ideas about the superiority of the pure blood wizards and at the same time be so intelligent and brave? Hermione would prefer to despise her for all of the pain her Pure Blood ideas had inflicted on her and her friends, especially Harry, who was an orphan.

"Miss Malfoy," Hermione said glumly. "Rest assured that I bear no grudge against Draco and I have no intentions of ratting on him, should I ever escape from here. Unlike others, he hasn't acted like... a barbarian. However I seriously doubt that I will ever escape from here alive. My chances are not good."

"But right now, Miss Granger, you're too valuable to kill. And so is Draco. We must cherish the small blessings" Miss Malfoy said with a little smile.

They ate the dessert, crêpes suzette, quietly together. It was clear that the Malfoy matriarch had delivered her message. She wanted to make sure that the Order of the Phoenix wouldn't punish Draco for violating one of its members. She left shortly after dinner, and a couple of elves quickly removed the porcelain and the little table.

(*)

Hermione expected Draco to come and rescue her sometime in the evening, and she tried to prepare herself as best she could. As a matter of a fact that was quite easy, since she didn't have any of her possessions with her – not even her wand. In the corner of the chamber was a high and narrow wardrobe made in dark, carved wood. She opened the wardrobe and noticed it was filled up with clothes her size. All of the clothes looked like something Narcissa would wear; there were a couple of dresses, some skirts and nice shirts, a silk bathrobe and elegant nightdresses. She smiled to herself imagining Miss Malfoy alone and relaxed at the manor; even then she would ooze of style and fashion. This upper-class attempted relaxed look was miles away from the way Hermione used to dress at a relaxed evening in the Gryffindor Tower: worn sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. At the bottom shelf she found _(praise Merlin!)_ her own clothes and her grey cape, which was resistant of wind and rain and was protected with a camouflage spell. It was a mystery to her how the house elves had managed to cleanse the clothing of all the blood and gore. They must indeed have used strong magic.

The bushy haired witch changed to her own clothes, laid the cape next to her at the bed and waited. And waited… And waited…

Once in a while she heard the sound of steps from outside, and every time she sat up straight, her heart pounding. But every time the steps continued past her door and disappeared down the corridor.

When she heard the ancient bell in the yard chime 12 times, she was about to lose her spirit. _I will not escape tonight,_ she thought, but she dared not sleep yet. Perhaps Draco was busy. Maybe he was given an assignment, and couldn't leave until his job was done. Or maybe he still had to figure out how to unlock the door to her chamber. Could it be that he had decided to fail her? She dared not end this thought…

At the moment Draco was her only hope of escaping this place alive, because it would be a suicide mission for the Order of the Phoenix to enter the Death Eater's headquarter just in order to free her. Despite many of its members being Gryffindor, they were as reckless as to throw away every chance of victory for saving one single witch. Kingsley Shacklebolt would never approve of this.

Hermione's thoughts wandered to Narcissa, and to what she was willing to endure for those she loved, and at the same time she felt a painful stab in her chest, when she thought about her own parents. Oh, how she missed them right now. How he wished they could be with her; especially now being imprisoned by foes treating her like the lowest scum of the earth, just because of her blood status. She would never be ashamed of who she was and where she came from. Never! At the moment her body ached and she felt ill. Even though someone _(she vaguely remembered seeing Snape)_ had gone through a lot of trouble trying to heal the worst damage from the horrible torture, she still felt its aftereffects. She was utterly tired in body and soul and she felt like shit. Unfortunately at the moment her parents resided in Australia and they were blissfully unaware of her existence. In order to protect them she had obliviated them before going Horcrux hunting with Harry and Ron. It was the only and right thing to do, but she still felt so lonely at this hideous chamber filled with condescending literature about pure blood supremacy. Oh how she longed for a night of sleep without nightmares and a day without new horrors. She sat quietly on the bed, while tears ran soundlessly down her cheek, when all of a sudden someone was at the door.


	9. An Unwanted Mission

**A/N:** The next chapter in my little fic, please enjoy Thanks for the comment, **shine25** and **storybook thumb** , really appreciate it. I promise that the story will continue outside of the manor very soon and more lemons will ensue sometime in the future. And also thanks to my lovely husband for removing the worst grammatical errors and inconsistencies! All though he's no great fan of Dramiones, he spends many late evenings reading my drafts.

 **Chapter 9**

 **An Unwanted Mission**

 _Draco POV_

While striding towards his room, he pondered about the easiest way to enter Hermione's prison cell. The chamber was located in the Manor's guest division, which consisted of two floors with a long corridor and chambers of varying sizes at both sides. Approximately in the middle of both corridors was a little sofa group in red velvet around an ebony table, on which every table leg was carved like a snake. On the walls hang paintings of distant ancestors; each one wearing a grim and haughty expression. The Malfoy Clan could be traced back to Merlin's age and even a little further, which was one of the explanations behind the Manors gothic appearance, since the Manor had belonged to the family for just as long. If Count Dracula should ever need a home outside of Transylvania, he would were likely feel at home here, Draco thought with a wry smile.

Entering his room he immediately remembered last night and especially the horrible screams that kept him awake all night. He wondered if he would ever feel at home at the Manor again. It used to be a place of security and happy childhood memories, but now it was a place of horrors and nightmares.

Draco gazed out of the window at the yard, which was barely visible in the twilight. A crow sat on the closed cast iron gate; its hoarse cries reminded him of Bellatrix' smug cackling one year ago, on the day that he took the Dark Mark in this very yard. He remembered vividly the intense burning sensation on his skin, and the nauseatingly sweet smell of burned meat. The whole atmosphere had been scary and occult; almost like an ancient Norse ritual. He had been surrounded by masked Death Eaters dressed in black, and in the middle of it all was a large bonfire, casting flickering lights and shadows at the large marble gargoyles flanking the cast iron gate. Bellatrix had uttered ecstatic cackles during the entire ritual. Being that close to the Dark Lord was downright creepy, and the pain when he received the mark was excruriating. His own mother had never joined the Death Eaters and therefore she was the only one, besides Draco, without a mask. He still remembered her resigned gaze and pallor complexion. She looked like a prisoner on her way to execution. Draco, like the fool he was then, had felt immense pride as the pain from the magical burning slowly dwindled. He remembered feeling, that he was becoming a Dark Wizard, someone to be feared and respected. Merlin! He had been such an idiot, he saw that now clearly. Now he loathed the mark intensely. If only he could turn back the time he would never have taken that hideous tattoo willingly. However, the more he thought about it, the more he realised, that his choice in the matter had been non-existent.

Needing something to calm his nerves, he opened the antique globe and poured a Fire Whiskey. Swallowing his drink he enjoyed the burning sensation in his throat. One drink had a minor calming effect and he savoured the warmth spreading in his body. Even though he would have preferred a couple more drinks, he closed the globe again. Tonight he needed to be awake and alert if he and Hermione were to succeed.

Draco pointed his wand towards his cabinet and opened the drawers one by one, until he finally found what he was looking for, a pair of extendable ears. He mumbled " _reducio"_ and put the now diminished ears in his pockets. Afterwards he packed a small bag, which was diminished too. It wouldn't do to bring more than he could carry in his pockets after a diminishing spell, but on the other hand he didn't know if he was ever going to see the Manor again, so he had to pack wisely. He looked thoughtful for a while, then shrugged and left his room, moving towards Hermiones chamber.

When Draco reached Hermione's room he noticed the absence of a doorknob, which was to be expected. He tried casting a simple _Alohomora_ and it came as no surprise that the door didn't open; he wouldn't have expected it to. However, if he was lucky, a simple password would open the room. He decided to sit around and wait for someone, most likely Narcissa, to enter, since she was planning to dine with Hermione. He just needed somewhere to hide while waiting and he knew that several Death Eaters lived in this part of the manor. He grabbed the doorknob to the right. It was locked.

 _Bloody Hell_!

He tried the door to the left, and it opened immediately, revealing a cramped and dusty room containing a single bed and a small chair. On the opposite site of the door was a tiny window of stained glass, and the view from the room was blocked by a large tree. Most likely the room was deemed unsuitable as accommodation for the Death Eaters. Thanking his lucky stars, he hurried into the room and closed the door using a _Colloportus_ while hoping that no one would seriously try to get into the room in the next couple of hours. He applied the extendable ears and waited for something to happen.

He hadn't waited for very long, when he heard the clicking of stilettos in the corridor. It couldn't be anyone other than Narcissa. She stopped outside the door to Hermione's chamber whispering "Toujours pur". Then he heard the sound of the door opening, and Narcissa entered the room next to him.

Narcissa spent a long time in Hermione's room and he couldn't hear the things they discussed. In fact, he couldn't hear anything from the room at all, aside from a humming sound. His mother had most likely used a very effective kind of privacy spell inside of the room. It was quite boring to sit and wait doing nothing except staring into a wall, and Draco was getting impatient. He hoped that Hermione would be ready to escape later this evening, when he, if everything went according to plan, would gain access to her room. He also hoped that she wouldn't despise him too much. He was painfully aware that he had treated her terribly over the years. Even though she was a Mudblood, he should have behaved like the bigger person, or at least like a Pure Blood Wizard with a minimum of good manners. The latest and most despicable act was at least done with his back against the wall, and Draco tried to convince himself that he had done it as gently as possible. In other words he had done a terrible deed with the best of intentions, and it just sounded like a bad excuse. The Dark Lord would most likely have a similar excuse for his terrible deeds. Every slaughtering of a Mudblood, every _Crucio_ or _Avada Kedavra_ was done for the greater good. _Fuck_!

Draco tried to regain his composure. Now was not the time to wallow in self pity. Later on there would be plenty of time in which he would be able to pity himself together with his only true and loyal friend Mr Fire Whiskey. But right now he needed to focus at the task at hand, or else he would be of no use to Hermione.

Finally the door reopened, and he heard the clicking of stilettos moving down the corridor, and the coast was clear. Now he had to act quickly in order to avoid being caught. He rose and listened behind the closed door for a short while. No sound of anyone approaching. Cautiously he opened the door and abandoned his hidey-hole. He made his way to Hermione's door, and was about to pronounce the password, when suddenly the door on the right side of the chamber slammed open and a gruff looking man with grizzly hair and a five o'clock stubble appeared. The man lit up when he recognised Draco.

"Malfoy! So lucky I ran into you! We're a small group of Death Eaters about to leave on a secret mission. You can come with us, we need one more."

"Mr. Lestrange. As you very well know, I'm always eager to please the Dark Lord," Draco lied, trying to make his voice sound a great deal more enthusiastic, that he felt inside.

 _Rodolphus Fucking Lestrange. Bloody fucking hell! Just my luck!_

Mr. Lestrange was always the one to undertake the most risky and reckless tasks, and now he was forced into following the crazy tosser for the next couple of hours, or Salazar only knew for how long. He would be very lucky indeed, if he were alive to try and free Hermione sometime late in the night.

"What kind of mission is it?" He asked, with what he hoped was a casual voice.

Rodolphus Lestrange smiled in a condescending manner, showing all his yellow tooth bits.

"What part of the word 'secret mission' did you fail to understand, Draco? It's only the absolute inner circle of the Death Eaters who are permitted to know the details. But we are in need of someone to stand watch. And as far as I know, the Malfoys are in desperate need of a better reputation amongst the Death Eaters. So this, my dear nephew, is a great opportunity for you show the Dark Lord your loyalty."

Draco made a curt nod, and the two of them left together.

 _By Salazar, why couldn't he and Hermione have even a tiny bit of luck!_ Now he was about to risk his life in a stupid mission, while Hermione was stuck in her little prison. And what would happen to her if he was killed... He dared not follow this chain of thought. He had been so close to freeing her. So very close! But of course the Lestranges had to live next to Hermione, or at least Mr. Lestrange, since he seriously doubted that Bellatrix had eyes for any other man than snakeface, not even her own husband.

They moved along the gloomy corridors and though the grandiose hall, entering the yard, where two Death Eaters, Dolohov and MacNair waited. Draco heard the sorrowful hooting of an owl from a nearby forest. It was still early in the spring, and the naked trees around the manor looked like long limbed giants. Draco shuddered and drew his cape closer around him.

Lestrange unlocked a wooden shed in the corner of the yard, in which the broomsticks were kept. Despite the severe circumstances, Draco was barely able to suppress a smile when his hands grabbed the familiar wood of his Nimbus 2001. It felt as if it was years ago he was flying on a broomstick, feeling the wind through his hair. The little group flew towards the gate, which was heavily guarded. The Death Eaters and their families were of course not allowed to slip in and out of the manor unnoticed. Especially the Malfoy's were kept in this gilded cage, since their loyalty was being questioned. The more trusted Death Eaters like Lestrange had almost free passage.

Lestrange nodded at the guards as they passed.

"Wait a second!" a gruff voice barked. "What about the Malfoy brat? As far as I know he's not permitted to leave the manor at the moment."

Of course it would be a pity to lock his broomstick into the old shed again, but for a second Draco hoped to be released of this unwanted task. However his hope was crushed by his uncle's disdainful voice.

"He's with me. Are you questioning my authority?"

"Of course not, Mr Lestrange, we're just trying to do our jobs, serving the Dark Lord as best we can."

"I take full responsibility. He's my nephew."

"Very well then, if you take full responsibility, the brat is allowed to leave for a while. And if you lose him, you'll have to answer to the Dark Lord."

Lestrange send the guard a menacing stare as the four of them passed through the gate, and the guard seemed to crumble under his stare.

"We're on the same side, you know," the guard mumbled petulantly.

Draco got the clear impression that his uncle actually thought he was doing him a favour by bringing his on this mission.

The small group flew through the moonlight forest on broomsticks, and for a while Draco almost forgot the many obstacles he was about to face, simply enjoying the freedom of flying. It had been love at first sight back when he was 6 and his father gave him a broomstick as a birthday present. Narcissa was furious and she thought it was madness to give a 6 year old a broomstick. And of course he fell off a couple of times, hurting himself badly, but it was nothing the family healer couldn't cure. And he never became afraid of flying, it was the one thing he had together with his otherwise quite distant father. He was very talented on a broomstick, and much better at it than most of his peers, until of course the daft pothead came along ruining it all, being some kind of a prodigy. But of course the never ending competition between him and Potter were of little importance now. Quidditch was of little importance, when the wizarding society was about to face a war...

They reached a clearing in the woods and Lestrange signalled for the three others to land. Draco felt sad that he had to dismount his Nimbus 2001 already, but of course they were only going to fly as far as outside the Manor's anti apparition wards. His uncle grabbed the four broomsticks, hid them under a three root and glamoured the spot. Afterwards they had to apparate. Since Draco had to clue as to where they were going, he had to side-along apparate with Lestrange, which brought him way closer to the man than he was comfortable with. He tried to breathe through his mouth in order to avoid the characteristic stale smell of his uncle. _Would it hurt him to cast a Scourgify on himself just once in a while?_

Despite the awkwardness of side-along apparition, he landed perfectly on both legs near a trailer park at the outskirts of a large forest. Next to the caravans he spotted several Muggle machines with two wheels, a seat and some sort of steering device. He was quite convinced that it had to be the Muggle invention called motorbikes. A sign near the road said: "Galloway Forest Park".

Apparating had always been easy for Draco, the same way flying on broomsticks and Quidditch was easy. He just instinctively knew how to do these things. He smiled inwardly when thinking of Hermione's insecure attempts at apparating during their last year together at Hogwarts. She was the brightest witch of her age, and yet, when she wasn't able to read about something in one of her many books, she easily became insecure. So adorable! Images of him flying through the moonlit forest on his Nimbus 2001 with Hermione sitting behind him, flashed through his head. He could almost feel her clinging desperately to him with her chaotic bushy hair flying freely in the wind. It was a pleasant daydream, but it was shot down again when Draco remembered what he had actually done to her a couple of hours previous. She would most likely run away from him as fast as she could, as soon as they escaped the Manor, should they ever succeed. And who could blame her? He was the lowest scum! A hideous monster! A bloody rapist!

A couple of men rose from various garden chairs and motorbikes. They had a gruff appearance and wore leather west's. Draco wrinkled his nose as he recognised a large man with long greasy greyish hair and sideburns. Fenrir Greyback! The man who turned Remus Lupin into a werewolf when he was still a little boy! So they were going to have business with the pack. Draco already knew that the Dark Lord conspired with the werewolves, however things could easily go wrong. The wolf men were famous for their hot-headedness, and many a meeting through the ages had ended up in crude mass fighting's. Obviously Lestrange had thought of the same thing, because he turned around facing Draco and barked:

"Draco! Quickly! Hide in the bushes over there, and if shit hits the fan, cast the greatest _Morsmordre_ you can, then get the hell out here and go back to the manor for assistance!"

"Got it," Draco replied and disappeared from plain sight, while the other three wizards walked towards the small trailer park.

From behind the bushes it appeared to Draco that serious matters were discussed, but luckily the atmosphere seemed peaceful enough. Suddenly he realised that this was probably his best chance of escape. For the first time in many months he was outside of the heavily guarded manor, and the nearest Death Eaters were some hundreds of yards away, busy negotiating with the werewolves. He was already carrying a diminished back in his pockets, containing some simple camping gear, and all he had to do was to apparate away somewhere quickly from where he could escape Britain and hopefully also the fury of the Dark Lord. This time tomorrow he could be sitting at a bar near the beach promenade in Nice, sipping a cold drink. All he had to do was to seize the opportunity and apparate the Hell away from here. Something held him back though. A pledge made some couple of hours ago and a pair of mesmerising hazel brown eyes. _You're getting weak, Draco_ ,he thought to himself.

After a while the atmosphere amongst the wizards and werewolves lightened, and Draco realized that the opportune moment had passed. One of the wolf men fetched a couple of canned beers and passed them around. Draco chuckled as he watched the three wizards polite attempt at swallowing this foul Muggle brewing. There were laughter and clapping of backs, and it looked as if the serious part of the meeting was over and they had reached some sort of agreement. Shortly after greetings and farewells were made, and the three wizards walked back towards the forest edge.

"Fucking barbarians," Lestrange growled furiously, when he reached Draco. "No manners, no restraint! They live in miserable shacks, drinking and shagging all day long. Luckily we don't need to associate with those flea infected dogs much longer, because the Great Battle will take place in a few days. The Dark Lord has discovered that the Potter brat is hunting some hidden heirlooms. And when he finds the next one, it will trigger an alarm, causing the Dark Lord to strike against him and his minions."

Lestrange had clearly revealed too much in his fury of having to associate with this scum while being a member of one of the sacred 28 families, and it seemed to dawn on him now.

"And if you know what's best for you, _dear_ nephew, you'll shut the fuck up about what you've seen tonight. Especially when you shag that little Muggle missus of yours!"

"She's not my little...," Draco started and cut himself of. As a matter of fact she was actually his little Muggle missus, by the exact order of the Dark Lord. He could hardly have received a task which would have made him more of a pariah amongst the Death Eaters. It was truly a stroke of genius from snakeface.

They apparated back, and returned to the manor flying on broomsticks. After that, the four of them entered the impressive main entrance and stepped into the great hall with the four crystal chandeliers and the large painting of the current Malfoys.

Draco made it towards his room, until he was no longer able to hear the other Death Eaters. He waited for a while outside his door, and then he sneaked back towards the guest section through the unlit corridors, not daring to cast a _Lumos_ out of fear of being caught. It was very late at night and hopefully most of the Death Eaters were asleep now, aside from the guards outside the Manor.

He reached the door to Hermione's room, raised his wand pronouncing the password ' _Toujours pur'_ and hoped for the best. It worked! The door opened and Draco was about to utter a small cheering sound, which he choked when his gaze fell on Hermione sitting on the plain bed, red-eyed and hugging herself.

"Granger," he whispered urgently. "Hurry up and gather your stuff. We need to leave as soon as we can!"

Draco dared not close the door to the room, fearing that the password from inside of the room was different than the one from outside. So obviously they were in a quite exposed position now, with the door wide open.

Hermione remained sitting passively with hunched shoulders, staring at her hands.

"Dra... I mean Malfoy. I thought you forgot about our deal. What took you so long?"

Her voice was shaking slightly and she had the appearance of an imminent mental break down. There was no time for this. Not here, not now. Later on she could cry on the shoulders of pothead and the weasel, but right now they needed to focus. They had to leave immediately in order to avoid ending on the wrong side of an _Avada Kedavra_.

However, at the moment, rushing her would do no good. Draco took in the sight of her tiny hunched form, and all of a sudden he instinctively knew what to do.

"You can call me Draco, it's okay" he said soothingly, as he seated himself next to her and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Her entire body twitched, and she gazed at him anxiously. He held her gaze, and slowly she started to return from her dark place and relax. Soon he recognized the usual intelligent and alert look in her brown eyes. She let go of his hand, looked him straight in the eyes and stated:

"Now I'm ready to leave!"


	10. Through the Dungeons

**A/N:** So our two heroes are finally about to leave the manor. Will they succeed? Dum dum dum... I promise there will be smut again soon, but unfortunately not in this chapter.

 **Chapter 10**

 **Through the dungeons**

 _Hermione POV_

It was still dark outside and the Manor was quiet. Together they left the small chamber, closing the door carefully behind them. Hermione felt quite exposed without her wand. She was entirely at the mercy of Draco Malfoy, the notorious Slytherin and her former arch enemy. She still had to decide whether she trusted him or not; not that she had much of a choice at the moment. And she had no knowledge what so ever of his fighting skills, since he had never joined the DA meetings. _It's probably better not to think too much about it now._

" _Lumos,"_ Draco whispered, creating a tiny lightning ball at the tip of his wand, which made it almost possible for them to see the see the floor in front of them. They hurried her along the corridor and into the great hall, watchful of noises and the sound of steps. Luckily the great hall was empty. From the yard they heard muffled voices and an occasional laughter from the guards, who were trying to pass the time. The great bell on top of the manor chimed four times and Draco paled visibly.

"We need to be out of here before dawn," he whispered urgently.

A modest looking staircase in the back corner of the otherwise impressive hall led down to the dungeons. The mere thought of returning there made Hermione's skin erupt in goose bumps and she felt slightly nauseous. Down the staircase the two of them went. It was clearly a less groomed part of the Manor, since the tiny lightening ball revealed several cobwebs and a lot of old dust. They reached the cellar and moved along the stone floor as quietly as possible. The corridor in the basement was filled with old and partly useless magical items and artefacts from forgotten ages. Both sides of the corridor were stocked with old, worn out furniture, and every surface was covered with old books, potion equipments and probably a lot of trash. Hermione had to stifle a sneeze from all of the dust and mould in the air and the dampness of the stone walls sent shivers down her spine. She would _not_ think about last night. Absolutely not! This was just another basement, like the one at home. She refused to succumb to another flashback.

Suddenly they heard the sound of steps. Someone was approaching.

"Quick," Draco whispered. "Hide in the corner, behind the massive desk of drawers."

They hunkered down behind the massive piece of furniture, carefully avoiding bumping into the many strange artefacts on top of it.

From a room further down the corridor they heard a throaty female voice muttering to herself about blood purity and filthy, tainted blood.

Hermione froze instantly and started shaking all over.

She knew this voice. She knew it very well in fact. It was the voice of her tormenter from last night; the deranged voice of the infamous Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange.

She couldn't help herself; she was now shaking uncontrollably. Draco grabbed her shoulders and made her hunker down beside him, hiding her from plain sight. She accidentally brushed a small vial of glass from the surface of the desk of drawers they were hiding behind was, and it fell down to the floor, shattering with a loud sound.

The throaty voice from the other room grew instantly quiet. After a short while they heard steps approaching down the corridor.

"Who's hiding in the basement? Is it a little mouse? Or is it a filthy traitor trying to escape? Come out and play in my dungeons. Come out and play." Bellatrix crooned in a creepy sing song voice.

The blood was rushing from Hermione's head and she felt dizzy. She was paralysed with terror, like a deer in the headlights.

The blond wizard next to her clenched his jaw and took her hand with his left hand, while keeping his wand ready with the right one. This was the end of their little pathetic attempt at escaping. This was the very end, Hermione was certain of it.

Halting steps and random movement of objects betrayed the fact that Bellatrix was now thoroughly searching the messy corridor.

Suddenly another set of steps appeared from the opposite direction, and Hermione caught a glimpse of a characteristic bat-like shape in billowing robes.

"Playing with our imaginary friends again, are we, Bellatrix?" Snape said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Someone is hiding in the basement. I heard noises from shattering glass!"

"That _someone_ was me dropping a vial in my potions lab. Your paranoia knows no bounds, Bellatrix! Who in their sound mind would hide in these basements, when you're lurking around eager to torture anyone out of their minds?"

Bellatrix laughed; a hoarse cackling sound.

"You always were a softie, Severus. Don't you think I've noticed? You never participate in any torturing, unless it's a direct order from the Dark Lord."

Hermione was close to losing it; she barely detected a couple of strong arms trying to hold her still and a soothing whisper in her ear.

"We all serve the Dark Lord as best we can, Bellatrix. Some are prone to random displays of vulgarity and violence, while others, like me, work with their mind," he growled, and continued. "And right now I'm ordered to create a lot of healing potions for the war to come in this primitive potions lab with half of my usual ingredients missing. So I would really appreciate it if you could leave, so I can work in peace. Besides, your husband is looking for you!"

"Marital bliss is of little importance, when the survival of the wizarding society is threatened by the tainted blood from the filthy Mudbloods," she sneered.

"Of course not... But nevertheless your husband seems to think you've abandoned him. And he's pestering all of us with questions of your whereabouts. So do us all a favour and go see him, will you!"

Bellatrix huffed furiously and marched away. Soon her irate steps could be heard moving up the spiral staircase.

"You can come out now, both of you. I've already spotted you; it wasn't so difficult," Snape said in a quiet voice.

"Are you going to deliver us to the Dark Lord?" Draco asked, his voice trembling.

"I made an unbreakable wow in order to protect you, and believe me you're not making it any easier for me with your sneaking around at night. But no, I'm not going to turn you in to the Dark Lord. I probably should, however the wow keeps me from doing it," he said with an indifferent sigh.

Hermione felt a sense of unreality wash over her, and the voices became more and more distant. It was as if she couldn't get enough air. She felt like suffocating, her heart pounding fiercely, as if her chest was going to explode. Dark spots appeared in her field of vision. She couldn't speak, couldn't think clearly. _Help me, I'm dying. I'm suffocating. Help me._

From far away she heard Draco's anxious voice:

"Please godfather, can you help her. I have no idea what's wrong with her. She was in a similar state earlier this evening, but I managed to bring her back again. Now she's somewhere far away and I can't reach her. I'm afraid there's something seriously wrong with her."

"Lay her down, she's close to fainting," Snape ordered.

Her body was floating and felt the tingling sensation of a diagnostic spell.

"She's suffering from an anxiety attack; probably an after effect from Bellatrix' rough treatment of her last night. And furthermore she's close to a collapse from exhaustion. I'll levitate her into my primitive potions lab and then I'll see what I can do. We're way too exposed in this corridor."

Hermione was moved somewhere, but she couldn't care less. She felt numbness spreading throughout her body and the walls were closing in on her. A chiming sound became louder and louder. She was struggling for air. Someone held some kind of bag in front of her face.

"Here! Breathe in and out quietly. There, there, relax. Take a deep breath and hold it," the soothing voice of her former potions professor said.

But she was losing control. She was slipping into a very dark place, a world of flames, mutilated bodies and intense pain. She was caught inside of herself without means to escape. Faintly she heard the anxious voice of Draco, and the tense baritone voice of professor Snape discussing something.

Someone held a vial to her lips and told her to drink. Obediently she took a sip and soon after the flames started to fade. Or they didn't exactly fade away; it was more that she was indifferent to them. A calm and warm sensation spread from inside of her, chasing away those unwanted memories. From a distance she heard the voice of her potions professor droning on, but she couldn't quite make out the words, and frankly she didn't care what he said. All she wanted to do was to stay in this indifferent state forever. She relaxed and eased into sleep.

She had no idea of how much time had passed, when suddenly someone shook her gently and a vial was held to her lips again.

"Here, drink this. It's a vial of _Revive Potion_. The two of you need to be going soon."

She woke with a start, feeling as if a bucket of ice water was poured at her. Abruptly she sat up, noticing two concerned faces watching her intently. She was positioned at a table in some sort of potions lab and she recognised the peculiar chemical odour immediately.

"Oh thank Merlin, you're awake!" Draco cried out, his worried expression changing into wide smile.

 _He really should smile more often,_ she thought, as she took in the warmth shining from his stormy grey eyes. There was no trace of his trademark sneer right now, which made him look incredibly handsome.

"What happened?" she croaked. "Were we taken by Bellatrix? I remember hearing her voice, and then it all became dark."

"You're safe now. Or at least you're safe for the moment. But we need to get going soon. Don't worry! We'll make it out of here, I promise!" he said, taking her hand and giving it a firm squeeze.

Professor Snape still looked worried. Using his wand he cast several diagnostic spells, and she felt him probing inside of her mind using Legilimency. Desperately she tried to put everything concerning Harry, Ron and Horcrux hunting behind mental walls, but she felt weak and exhausted, and could only hope that Snape didn't find anything of use to the Dark Lord.

The bat-like wizard didn't look quite well. It was as if he had aged several years since he taught at Hogwarts, and for the first time she noticed threads of grey in his pitch black greasy hair. The man was a mystery to her. It appeared as if he was helping her, and yet he delivered a severe blow to The Order by murdering professor Dumbledore. Snape cleared his voice and said:

"Miss Granger. You had an anxiety attack and a severe flashback, which caused some sort of mental break down. I tried to end it, using a simple _Sleepless Draught_. It looks as if I succeeded; or at least, as if I succeeded at the moment."

He handed her a vial containing a Christmas red liquid and continued his speech.

"Being exposed to the _Cruciatus Curse_ repeatedly is not to be taken lightly. I have restored your sanity for now, but I strongly suggest you to see a mental healer as soon as you can. I'm no healer, only a potioneer, remember. Until it's possible for you to go to a real healer, take two sips of this _Calming Draught_ before you go to sleep and one sip whenever you start to panic."

Hermione nodded storing the vial in her pocket. Then she looked him directly in the eyes.

"You're confusing me, professor Snape. I got the clear impression that you chose to follow the Dark Lord instead of the Order, and yet you seem to be helping me. Why?"

Snape looked thoughtful for a while, as if he was considering something. He seemed to make up his mind, pointed his wand towards his head, extracted some of his memories and poured the silvery substance into another vial.

"I do what I have to do, let's just leave it at that. Bring this vial to Potter, he'll know what to do with it," he said handing it over to her. He continued in his usual stern teaching voice:

"And you need to sleep as soon as you can, I cannot stress that enough. As soon as you get out of here, apparate somewhere and sleep for several hours. Do it before you go back to Hogwarts, or wherever you headed! Your magical core is exhausted, and your core is what's keeping you together mentally. So promise me you'll sleep before you do anything else."

"I promise," she said quietly. He didn't need to tell her she was exhausted, she already felt like it. The effect of the _Revive Potion_ was already wearing of, and she felt as if she was a hundred years old.

"Quick, go now," the potions master continued. "Dawn will break soon and you need to be out of here before someone notices you're missing."

"Thank you so much, godfather... for everything... I'll miss you. When all of this is over, we'll meet again, right?" Draco said, looking hopeful.

Snape grabbed Draco by the shoulders and looked at him with an almost contrite expression.

"We might," he said solemnly. "But if we don't, promise me you'll take good care of yourself! I liked being your godfather, it was always challenging, never boring. And please go now!"

They left the small potions lab and ran down the corridor and into a small dusty library, containing what looked like lots and lots of forbidden books on dark magic. Draco searched the room and found an old painting of a galley in the middle of a storm. Carefully he removed the painting. He raised his wand, uttering an unlocking charm. A keyhole appeared on the wall.

"Now it's your turn, Hermione. Use the ring."

Her brows furrowed in concentration as she raised her finger. There was no way the ring would in any way fit into the hole.

"Oh, I forgot," Draco exclaimed slapping his forehead. "You have to turn the ring counter clockwise."

She did as she was told, and a little green gem appeared on the ring. The gem fit right into the keyhole, and with a slow creaking sound a door opened in front of them, and a mould-smelling passage dug into the ground appeared. The two of them stepped into the claustrophobic darkness, and Hermione found herself clutching Draco's hand.

When safely inside the secret passage, Draco cast a _Colloportus Charm_ on the secret door, and the door closed behind them, slamming loudly. Unfortunately they couldn't put the painting back on the wall, so they needed to hurry up, in case someone found the passage.

They were groping their way through the unlit passage. Hermione was now weary with fatigue. She needed to rest, and she needed it soon. She stifled a yawn, forcing herself to move forward.

Draco lowered his pace and looked at her searchingly.

"Are you okay?"

"Just extremely tired, but I think I will be," she said, trying to smile reassuringly.

"Lean on me for support."

She laid her arm over his shoulders, letting him drag her forward while savouring his muscular chest and his woody masculine smell. Something stirred inside of her.

 _If only I wasn't so dead tired..._

After what felt like walking underground forever, the passage led upwards towards a rusty iron lid. Hermione could tell that it was very heavy, because Draco clenched his jaw when he used the _Levitation Charm._ Up onto the ground they went. Trees were all around them, and it was light; dawn had broken now.

"Take my hand, Hermione, we need to apparate quickly."

"Where are we going?" she asked anxiously.

"Anywhere but here! Somewhere in Scotland, close to Hogwarts, but not too close. Come on, we need to go now."

She shrugged, taking his hands. It was becoming a habit to hand over the control of events to other people, and she wasn't fond of this habit, but she had no wand and she was so exhausted she could almost sleep while standing. She felt the familiar pull from apparating and was sucked into nothingness for a moment; and shortly after she struggled to gain her footing in a clearing near a beautiful lake. Judged by the vegetation and the surrounding hills they were obviously in the northern part of Great Britain now.

Draco gave her an arm for support, while trying to hide a small smile. _Bloody show-off!_ Ron and Harry always mocked her relentlessly about her lack of finesse when apparating. And it looked as if Draco found it hilarious too. She would have given him a snappy comeback, if she wasn't so extremely tired all of a sudden. The apparition had taken the very last of her strength. Her eyelids felt so heavy. If she could just close her eyes for a moment... Just close them and relax... Just one moment...

"Hermione, don't faint on me again," Draco said, gently shaking her arm.

She was lifted up and held in his strong arms; he carried her and laid her down on a carpet of moss, while he used his wand to raise the little magical tent.

Almost completely gone, she felt herself being lifted inside of the tent and laid down on a soft mattress. A vial was held to her lips and she took two sips of the _Calming Draught_.

She might have been dreaming, but she though she felt soft lips kissing her forehead and someone whispering:

"Sweet dreams my angel."

A/N: Thanks to anyone taking the time to read this story. Please comment :)


	11. Camping

**A/N:** I really enjoyed writing this chapter since the two of them are finally out of the manor. Furthermore, this chapter contains a little smut, which is great fun to write Thanks to anyone reading this story, it really keeps me motivated.

 **Chapter 11**

 **Camping**

 _Draco POV_

Draco stayed awake for a while, watching the sleeping witch next to him thoughtfully. _Go to sleep my angel!_ He was getting soft, making himself vulnerable. He huffed annoyingly. _Who are you trying to fool, Draco?_ He was falling in love with the witch; there was no denying it any longer. She was no knockout like Pansy; she had ridiculous hair and was often prone to clumsiness. Furthermore she was a geek if there ever was one, and a teacher's pet. But she was also brave, extremely intelligent and sometimes even funny. And her quiet kind of beauty had grown on him. Her eyes were mesmerizing. Draco felt as if he caught a glimpse of her beautiful soul every time he looked into those gorgeous hazel eyes. _You're turning into a sap,_ he chided himself.

But she could never know. She could never know the extent of his feelings for her. She hadn't been bedded voluntarily; she had been forced into doing it. And even though the two of them tried to make the best of the situation it didn't change the fact that she somehow had been taken by force.

His godfather had seen right through him, even though Draco was very skilled at _occlumensi,_ always putting up walls around his inner feelings, never baring his soul. Obviously his body language had given him away. He remembered Severus' words earlier, while Hermione was put into an artificial sleep.

 _You must escape this basement as soon as you can. Being here is extremely stressful for her and the last thing you want is another anxiety attack. She is at risk of sliding into a comatose state from exhaustion anytime soon. When you escape from here, you need to set up a camp and sleep for several hours before doing anything else. I cannot stress this enough, Draco, it's extremely important. She must rest before she does anything else; otherwise her physical and mental health is at risk. Give her two sips of this calming draught, and make sure that she rests herself. And for Merlin's sake, Draco, don't make a pass at her! Treat her gently and leave her be. She might seek the comfort of physical intimacy after her traumatic experiences, but she needs her friends now more than ever, and if you're thrown into the mix, it will only confuse things for her._

For a moment last night he had nurtured a faint hope of a different life, a hope of finding his one and only, his soul mate; or his true love like in the fairytales or the sappy romances his mother sometimes read. But it was only a daydream, a fantasy. He was painfully aware that he didn't deserve her. He had done too many bad things and witnessed too much evil. All the while she and all of her friends had struggled against the Dark Lord relentlessly, outnumbered and weak, organising DADA and such, he, Draco Malfoy, had been plotting how to murder the headmaster. He still had no idea why his godfather had completed this task for him; Severus Snape was an enigma indeed.

As the twittering of birds outside of the tent became louder and louder, he realized he was quite fatigued himself. Unfortunately he had only brought one of the smaller magical tents, which meant that the two of them had to lie in the same room next to each other. _But it would have to do for now,_ he thought easing into his sleeping back, trying not to dwell on the fact that right next to him laid a very attractive witch. He savoured her calm sleeping face and her vanilla scent and five minutes later he was out like a light, despite the fact that dawn had broken.

He awoke many hours later from an empty feeling in his stomach. The light from outside was more subdued now, which meant that it was probably nearing sundown. Hermione was still sleeping, but not as peacefully as in the early morning. She was twisting and turning, her brow furrowed and her expression troubled.

Draco looked at her, unsure of what to do. It pained him to see her deprived of peaceful rest. _What did you do to her, Bellatrix? What kind of damage did you do?_ His hand clutched his wand tightly while he dreamt of punishing the torturous witch using her own wicked spells. However he felt partly responsible for the torture inflicted on Hermione; after all it was done by some of his close relatives. He cursed the fact that he was related to so many of the lunatics.

The bushy haired witch beside him uttered a whimpering sound, while obviously still asleep, caught in a nightmare. Her eyes moved rapidly back and forth between her closed eyelids. With a sigh Draco decided to intervene, not sure whether it would help her or make matters worse to wake her up. He moved closer to her in his sleeping back and put an arm around her tiny frame. Then he started shaking her awake carefully.

"Hermione, wake up! You're having a nightmare."

She awoke with a start; eyes wide open all of a sudden. Her gaze was unfocused and she jerked away from him. Perhaps she was still dreaming with open eyes.

"Hermione! Relax! You're safe here. It's just a nightmare," he reassured her, making sure not to make any sudden movements.

Awareness crept into her hazel eyes, and she cast him a dubious gaze. Draco felt the need to explain himself.

"We're out of the Manor now. I don't know how much you remember from yesterday, but we apparated here after fleeing through the dungeons. You were having a nightmare of some sort, which is why I woke you up."

"I remember most of it... I remember apparating to someplace near a lake shore. But what happened after that is somewhat foggy," she said quietly.

"Not much happened after that. You were ready to drop when we arrived here, and after raising the tent, we both slept for hours."

The bushy haired witch lay still for a while, looking thoughtful and most likely digesting it all. Draco suddenly became aware that they were lying quite close to each other and his arm was still resting on her. It didn't seem to bother her, so he decided to let it stay for now. Out of nowhere she suddenly burst into tears, taking Draco by surprise.

"What's happening, Hermione? Is it the nightmare? Are you hurt in any way?"

"No, it's not the nightmare," Hermione said, blinking away tears. "I'm just so relieved to have escaped the Manor. I never thought I would. I had convinced myself I would die there!"

Draco carefully removed her tears with his thumb and said:

"No reason to cry now. We're out of there, it's done; we escaped! Where's your Gryffindor optimism. I told you I would get us out of there, didn't I?"

She relaxed and smiled through the tears.

"You're absolutely right. Harry always tells me to have a little faith. Sometimes I'm a sore excuse for a Gryffindor, you know. The Sorting Hat did seriously consider putting me in Ravenclaw during my Sorting, but it decided on Gryffindor in the end. Probably because I begged it to do so; I've asked around, and Gryffindor sounded by far the best college for me. Dumbledore himself was in it, you know."

Draco smirked and said: "A Rawenclaw! I should've guessed. You're too much of an academic to be a Gryffindork. As for me, I'm a Slytherin through and through. The sorting hat bellowed Slytherin almost before the hat touched my head."

He enjoyed their carefree atmosphere and tried his best to distract Hermione from her nightmares and their still delicate situation. However he seriously doubted that the Dark Lord would put any effort in locating the two of them, since he obviously was more concerned with initiating a great battle. On the other hand, the Dark Lord had singled the two of them out to create the next overpowered Dark Wizard, and as of now that plan was ruined; or at least postponed. They had better stay low the two of them, until this mess was over.

He felt a tingling in his fingers after stroking her chin, and something started to stir inside of him. He remembered from yesterday how it felt to stroke her smooth porcelain skin and it added to his arousal to the extent that he worried that she would be able to feel it through the sleeping back. _Get a hold on yourself, Draco_ ,he thought to himself, while trying to change his posture discretely in order to position his groin in a less obvious manner.

"Stop calling us Gryffindorks," she scolded playfully striking his shoulder, which almost undid him.

 _By Salazar please continue. I sure could use a spanking from this sexy witch._

Images of Hermione dressed in a tight leather suit and holding a whip flashed though his head.

 _Stop it Draco. Stop it right there. You're trying to comfort the girl, for Merlin's sake._

 _Umbridge in a bikini, Umbridge in a bikini_ , he chanted to himself, closing his eyes. The morning woodie faded slightly, and he dared opening his eyes again, only to gaze into Hermione's face, her pupils dilated and her mouth slightly open. He was drawn into her mesmerizing gaze and couldn't help himself as he cupped her chin in a less comforting and more caressing way.

"Oh my God," she murmured, her cheeks flushing.

Those little Muggle swear words when she forgot herself were so hot. A musky and feminine scent reached his nostrils, and there was no denying it. He wanted her so badly. He was lost for words.

"Hermione... I erm... Oh bloody hell... Erm...Do you... Oh forget it... Nevermind..." he stuttered.

 _Merlin what is happening to me. I'm turning into a Hufflepuff._ In one way it felt so natural to be close to her lovely body, after yesterday's intimate experience, but on the other hand he knew that he was not allowed to touch her that way now. Not without permission anyway. This ambiguousness of the situation confused the hell out of him and he didn't know how to deal with it. Most of his dates had been quite impressed by him, and thus eager to please him, but Hermione was a different kind of girl; more intelligent and more difficult to impress.

Hermione giggled. "Very articulate, Draco, I must say."

She freed both of her hands from the sleeping bag and took Draco by surprise when she let her one hand slide behind his neck. She lifted her head and closed in on him, covering his mouth with a soft kiss.

"I'll show you articulate," he growled, kissing her back eagerly, his heart thudding violently in his chest. This was too good to be true; she wanted him too. In the back of his head he heard his uncle's voice, warning him not to make a pass at the girl, but he chose to ignore said voice, as he was currently teasing and sucking on Hermione's lower lip. A heated moan escaped from her lips.

He wanted to feel the warmth and softness of Hermione's body. Light-headed from snogging he waved his wand, unzipping both of the sleeping backs. Sadly she was still fully clothed from yesterday, when she had fallen to sleep so sudden. Their bodies were twisting and turning in a confusion of clothing and sleeping backs, sliding away from each other, and the tent was hot and sweaty.

"This will not do, I want to feel you" Draco said, as he magically displaced the sleeping bags, moving them back into the cover. He started to pull off her blouse, eager to ogle her lovely body once more. Now he knew he was in for a treat.

"Wait a second," Hermione suddenly exclaimed and rolled away. From her pocket she took the vial containing Snape's memories and placed it in safe distance from the mattress. She rolled back and continued undressing.

"Don't even think about it," Draco purred. "I've already told you that I'm the one to undress you."

With skilled hands he removed her clothes and underwear, admiring her curves. Draco removed his pants as well, but deliberately kept his shirt on. He didn't want to ruin the intimate atmosphere by flashing his Dark Mark. This is much better, he thought, as he savoured the sensation of her naked body. Despite the fact that he very much wanted to devour her, he tried to hold back and let her make the initiative in order to let her discover his body in her own pace. It was an almost excruciating experience when she traced his jaw with kisses, massaged his chest and teased his nipples with her lovely pink tongue, clearly exploring him. However he refused to force himself on her this time.

All of a sudden she stopped, lifted her head and furrowed her brow.

"Do you like this, Draco? I don't know how to please a man."

It might be primitive, but her innocence turned him on.

"We men are simple creatures! Being with you turns me on, no matter what you do," he said, stroking the lower part of her back. "So go ahead, take your time. I'm all yours."

"Well in that case..." she said with a mischievous smile, turning her attention towards his groin. With a scrutinizing gaze she traced his member with her tiny finger and Draco closed his eyes, enjoying the slow torture. She was kneeling over him, exploring him thoroughly. He placed her hand around his manhood, showing her how to stroke it the right pace. Her breath was laboured and her gaze heavy.

She was kneeling over him and he let his fingers caress her fanny. Staring at him eyes wide open she let out a surprised "oh".

"Relax Hermione. I'm just feeling you."

Quivers washed over him as he realized that she was already wet. He massaged her clit, making her whimper with pleasure. Her eyes were hazy and she was unable to concentrate on pleasing him. He decided to move things further. With firm hands he grabbed her hips, guiding her onto his arousal.

All of a sudden she froze.

"Draco, what are you doing?" she demanded.

"I'm guiding you to sit on top of me. Don't you want to?" he asked, bracing himself for the worst.

Hermione furrowed her brow.

"I thought guys were supposed to be on top. I don't know how to do this."

"Just relax. We won't do anything at all without your consent. But this is a great position for many women. You decide the pace and how much you want me to enter. Do you want to try? I'll guide you!"

"Okay then," she answered cautiously.

Draco eased into her and tried to help her set the pace. He had to push upwards to avoid sliding out again. It was an awkward position and he almost regretted the fact that he didn't chose the missionary position instead. Hermione moved tryingly back and forth. He held firmly onto her hips with both hands and caught her legs under his thighs. Then he guided her back and forth in a steady pace, embedding himself entirely into her core.

After a while she got the hang of it and her pace was quickening. She closed her eyes, barely suppressing a moan. She was still shifting a between a fast and a more steady pace; obviously finding her own pace.

"This is... actually good," she breathed.

"Mmmm" he agreed, not really trusting his voice at this point.

He was buried inside of her as she was rubbing herself against him. Nothing could have aroused him more. Shivers washed over him as he took in the sight of her small bouncing breasts. He reached for them and started massaging them with a firm grip.

"Oh my, Draco... I want to... I want more..." she moaned incoherently.

She was riding him more violently now, and he could tell that she was close. Whimpering pleadingly she trusted her entire body back and forth.

"Come for me, Hermione. Come for me!" Draco howled.

She cried out loudly and arched back, digging her nails into his chest. The climax rippled through her and she contracted rhythmically around his manhood. Roaring her name he trusted forcefully into her, releasing himself while waves of pleasure washed over him. As the spasms subsided he felt relaxed and utterly spent. Vaguely in the back of his brain a small voice questioned the rationality of having unprotected sex without a contraceptive potion, when they had now escaped their imprisonment, but he didn't dwell on it.

Hermione had collapsed on top of him and he carefully laid her down beside him, enjoying the proximity. They were both sweaty and sticky and he cast a _scorgify_ on both of them. Something was burning inside of his thighs and he realized that the friction from Hermione riding him had caused a pair of severe excoriations. He resisted the urge to keep them as a badge of honour and cast a small _episkey_ on both his and Hermione's thighs.

After sating his sexual needs he felt the hunger even stronger and his stomach grumbled loudly. As much as he loved the intimacy of spooning Hermione, he needed some food, and he needed it now. Caressing her soft skin he said:

"I don't know about you Hermione, but I'm starved. I'm going to fix us some breakfast or dinner or whatever is appropriate at this time of the day. But don't expect too much, I've only brought camp food."

Hermione nodded in agreement and they both dressed. He conjured two cups of tea and enlarged the reduced flapjacks using an engorgement charm. An uncomfortable silence settled upon them. None of them dared to address the giant elephant in the room: where were they heading and what would happen between them from now on? As they ate Draco desperately thought of some way to start a conversation. Hermione beat him to it, when she cleared her voice and said:

"Draco. I need to find the Order somehow, since I'm going to deliver professor Snape's memories to Harry. They very likely contain some crucial piece of information of how to defeat You-Know-Who, and the sooner it reaches Harry the better. "

Draco gave a curt nod.

She continued: "However, I don't have a wand, so I'm quite defenceless in case..."

He took her hands and looked her straight in the eye: "I'm taking you there, of course. Did you really think I was going to leave you to wander around in the woods amongst Death Eaters and without a wand?"

"Thanks, Draco," she said quietly.

"By the way, what will you do now, Draco? Now that you've officially betrayed You-Know-Who?"

Draco shrugged. "I haven't really thought it through, you know. I realize that I have to go into hiding from now on. I think I might leave the country. Or at least leave it for a while. I worry a great deal about Mother, though. She might be accused of my escape."

Hermione took his hand.

Certain things needed to be said and Draco continued:

"I'm so very sorry that I hurt you yesterday. It was never my intention to do so. This whole creating a powerful wizard thing wasn't my idea. I hope you can find it in you to forgive me someday," he said in a quiet voice, staring at his hands.

"Oh my Gosh, Draco, do you seriously still think that I bear a grudge towards you? After all we've been through the last 24 hours. I would never have made it out of there, if it wasn't for you. Stop pestering yourself about things you can't control. We both did what we had to do in order to survive; it's as simple as that."

"I just feel guilty about it, that's all."

"Please don't! You have nothing to feel guilty about."

"You might feel different about in later on..." Draco said, furrowing his brow.

They were both quiet for a while. Hermione broke the silence and asked:

"Have you considered joining the order?"

He laughed, a bitter, joyless sound, and rolled up his sleeve revealing his Dark Mark.

"Do you really think they would welcome me in wearing this?"

Draco watched how Hermione curled her lips in disgust as she took in the sight of the hideous magical tattoo of the skull and the serpent.

"It's too late for me, Hermione! Way too late," he said as he rolled down his sleeve again, hiding his shameful marking.

"No, it's not too late! It's never too late to change."

"I don't think your friends from Gryffindor agrees with you." he said quietly, all though a faint hope grew inside of him. Staying with the order wouldn't be so bad if Hermione stood by him. However he also remembered his godfather's words about Hermione's need for comfort and physical intimacy after her traumatic experience. She might think she wanted a friendship or some intimacy with him now, but how would she feel about it, when she reunited with her real friends? It dawned on Draco that he had made a grave mistake by making love to her, and she might blame him later on for taking advantage on her in a vulnerable position. Even if it was what both of them wanted at the time, he should have treated her kindly and respectfully instead of jumping into bed with her.

"But what about the two of us? What about this?" Hermione said, making a circular gesture. "I had hoped that we... Draco I think that I... kind of like you. I've seen this whole new side of you and I would like to get to know you better. I don't want us to go separate ways."

A warm feeling spread inside of him. By Salazar, he would like to get to know her better too. He had wanted to get to know her better for a very long time. He admired her courage to just get her feelings out in the open. Opening up was not so easy for him, from an early age he was raised to keep his feelings in check. And the last couple of months amongst the Death Eaters hadn't made it any better. As he pondered his reply, they were abruptly interrupted by a gruff voice from outside.

"Who's there? Show yourselves, or by Merlin we will attack."

Hermione's face lit up.

"Remus! Is that really you?"

She stood up and bolted out of the tent, throwing herself into the arms of the ragged form of her former professor. Draco followed reluctantly, cursing the bad timing of the interruption. As he reached the opening of the tent, he froze, as several wands were pointed towards him.

"No! Please lower your wands. He's with me. He rescued me from the Manor." Hermione interrupted, holding out her hands.

Draco recognised the two other members of the group; it was the auror and former ministry employee Kingsley Shacklebolt, and one of the redheaded Weasleys, Charlie Weasly he guessed. Why couldn't he have had just a little more time alone with Hermione? Now it was too late to tell her how he felt. And besides, she should stay far away from someone like him. He would deliver her safely to her friends and let her continue to live her life as it was before.

"Be careful," Kingsley said. "She could be under the _imperius_ curse."

"I'm not," Hermione replied indignantly.

With a flick of his wand towards Hermione Kingsley chanted " _Finite Incantatem_."

Nothing happened; nothing at all. Reluctantly the three wizards lowered their wands.

He continued: "I'm sorry Hermione, but we need to be extra careful these days. We've set up a camp not far from here. The three of us are out securing the area. We've heard rumours of an imminent attack on parents of a Muggle born, and we're trying to prevent it."

Lupin turned towards Draco. "You can come too, Malfoy, if you want to. But we need to know exactly what happened at the Manor," he said sternly.

Draco pressed his lips into a thin line and gave a curt nod. This was what he dreaded. Telling everything might be a bad idea, and he hoped that Hermione agreed to that. He shrunk his tent and together the small group followed a trail away from the lake and towards a clearing in the woods.

Charlie put his arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Someone at the camp will be very happy to see you. Ron and Harry have been sick with worry. They feared the worst. In fact we all did. We were not sure we were ever going to see you again."

Draco's spirit fell as he realized they had to meet the Weasel and the Golden Boy already. _Bloody marvellous!_

"Charlie, it was horrible," Hermione replied shakily. "I'm so relieved to be free again."

As they neared the clearing a faint shimmer from glamour appeared, and soon they were able to see the small camp.

"Look who we've found," Charlie yelled, and soon after a redhead and a bespectacled man with black unruly hair sprinted towards them, with big grins plastered on their faces.

"Hermione, is that really you?" Harry yelled, laughingly.

 _Use your eyes, wanker!_ Draco thought with a sneer.

"Yes, It's really me," Hermione replied with a wide smile and held out her arms for a hug. She was hugged fiercely by her two Gryffindor friends and Draco felt as if a knife was twisted through his intestines.

Suddenly Ron froze and glared daggers at Draco.

"What's the bloody ferret doing here? Get away from her, you Death Eater scum," Ron barked and took a couple of steps towards Draco, both of his hands clenched into fists.

Hermione tried to intervene. "Take it easy you guys! He has changed a lot. He helped me escape the manor!"

Draco gazed at the three friends finally reunited, and he realized that he would always stir things up between Hermione and her friends. Hermione would never be truly happy if he stayed, because his mere existence would forever be a thorn in the side of Ron and Harry. Furthermore he would find it impossible not to taunt the hot-headed tosser aka the weasel. A history of animosity and bullying could not so easily be erased. And besides, he was carrying the Dark Mark.

 _Now is the time to be strong, Draco_ , he thought to himself as he changed his features into his usual haughty sneer.

"Well here's your precious Gryffindor princess delivered in one piece. So my job here's done. Sayo-fucking-nara." he drawled, and turned around to leave.

"Draco, what are you doing," Hermione said in a shaky voice.

"What does it look like I'm doing? Our deal is done, I'm leaving!" Draco said.

He caught a glimpse of her beautiful hazel eyes and it pained him. She looked confused and hurt. He brazed himself and continued walking. He had to find a spot outside of the camp to apparate from before someone got the idea to hold him hostage.

"Don't walk away from me like that! Don't you dare! I trusted you. I thought you liked me!" She yelled at him, her voice breaking.

 _You have no idea, Hermione. The word 'like' will never be enough to describe the extent of my feelings for you. However I need to be strong now, in order to do what's necessary. I'll never forget you, Hermione. Never!_

"Let him go, he's not worth it," Harry said, holding her tight.

Clenching his jaws Draco strode away from the witch with the bushy hair and the mesmerizing hazel brown eyes. The witch he was certain he would always love, no matter what happened. But it was bound to be love from a distance. She could never know about his feelings. It was for the best, he thought, blinking away tears, as he apparated from the edge of the clearing.


	12. Repercussions

**A/N:** Dear Reader, I'm going to move past the Great Battle at Hogwarts in a hurry. Furthermore, some parts of the Great Battle in my story are different from the canon. Hope you enjoy it anyway. And please don't hate Hermione. She's a bit weak in this chapter and makes silly choices, but eventually she will regain her strength. Shine25: Yup, Draco was a total arse in the last chapter.

 **Chapter 12**

 **Repercussions**

 _Hermione POV_

Hermione clung to Harry crying her eyes out as she watched Draco walk away and apparate. The last couple of days had been an emotional rollercoaster, and she couldn't keep up any longer. Draco had become her beacon of hope at the manor, in the middle of the worst nightmare of the life, and now he had left her for good. She had offered him her friendship and the potential of something more, and he had abandoned her at the first opportune moment. She felt rejected and thrown away like a piece of thrash, and it hurt. It hurt badly. She had felt a certain attraction towards him. Had she been wrong in assuming that the feeling was mutual? Why did he choose to make love to her only a few hours before his escape? Maybe it was an act of mercy from his side, since she had practically thrown herself at him? No, she couldn't believe it, there had definitely been a spark between them; a mutual attraction. But for some reason he had chosen to return to his old ways at the first glimpse of the Order.

"Why are you crying Mione? It's just the ferret." Ron said in a whiny voice.

Ron. She had forgotten all about him. They were supposed to be in a relationship. Or at least they were until they left her behind at the Manor. It was all very complicated. As a matter of a fact she had in a way cheated on Ron, at least on one occasion; because the first time she and Draco made love, she didn't have much of a choice. None of her friends could ever know about it. First of all, the Order would track Draco down and murder him, and despite him being a giant arse at the moment, he didn't deserve that. But more importantly, she wouldn't want to be known as a victim. She didn't want that mark on her. If people knew she was practically raped, she wouldn't be someone to count on or to be respected; she would be someone people felt sorry for. She just had to put a lid on it all and move forward.

"It's just been a rough couple of days," she sobbed.

"It's okay, just let it all out," Harry comforted. "We're here for you now. Malfoy quite obviously is a giant tosser throwing away your friendship like that; however, I will be forever grateful that he rescued you from the Manor. I feel so bad that we left without you."

"Yeah, it's so good to have you back Mione." Ron said engulfing her in a bear like hug.

Hermione wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. "I was a little mad at both of you for a while. But I realize that it would've been a suicide mission if you were to return to the Manor to fetch me."

"We thought that Dobby would return and get you. Unfortunately he..."

"Something happened to Dobby?" Hermione said sharply, her heart pounding.

Tears were spilling from Harry's eyes.

Ron cleared his voice and said: "Dobby was hit by an _avada_ at the exact moment he apparated from the manor with me. He's dead, Mione."

"Oh no! Oh my Gosh Harry I'm so sorry."

"Thanks... Sometimes it feels as if anyone close to me is bound to die someday. Seriously, you should all get away from me as soon as you can."

"Never," Hermione answered. "We're in this together, and we will see this though to the end together."

The three of them stood together hugging each other mourning their lost friends and relatives.

(*)

The next couple of weeks went by in a haze, and Hermione tried to place all the memories of a certain blond wizard in the back of her mind. In general she tried her very best to forget about her stay at the Manor and the cruel torture inflicted on her. Some traces of it remained though. Her joints were stiff and sore when she woke up in the mornings, especially her lower back, and sometimes, when fatigued and stressed, her left hand started twitching.

Ron tried to move their relationship forward. Before her imprisonment at the manor they had only held hands, and on a few occasions there had been snogging. But it was obvious now that he wanted more, and his bright blue eyes were often filled with hurt when Hermione gently rejected him. She tried her best to avoid being alone with him.

They managed to find the Horcrux in Bellatrix' vault; and the following Horcrux at Hogwarts was a trap and initiated the Great Battle. The battle was won, but with severe causalities. Hermione walked through the devastated great hall shortly after the Battle and her gaze fell on Ron as he sat on a bench tears running down his cheeks. He had just lost his brother Fred and he looked severely broken. Hermione's heart went out to him and she joined him at the bench.

"Hey there", she said.

Ron mumbled something and didn't look at her. There was a time when they would've leaned onto each other, but now there was a palpable distance between. She missed the old Ron. Oh Heck, she missed the old her and the simplicity of their beginning romance from before the world became complicated.

"I'm so sorry about Fred." She offered.

"Me too, Mione!" He said and leaned towards her as tears spilled down his cheeks.

They sat together for a long time, holding hands, both nervous to break their new found intimacy. It felt safe and well known being with Ron again; much like wearing a well worn sweater. It was a difficult time filled with both relief and joy that Voldemort was no more, but at the same time grief of lost friends and relatives. The losses were so devastating. They had lost Fred, Tonks and Lupin, several of their classmates and professor Snape, who very surprisingly had turned out to be Dumbledore's ally. His actions at the Manor made more sense now. In fact he had taken a great risk helping her and Draco. She mourned the loss of her former professor, and couldn't stop wondering how Draco would cope with the loss of his godfather, whom he clearly loved and respected. Once more she was thinking about Draco despite her intentions not to. _Where are you? Did you manage to get away? Did you survive?_ She couldn't deny to herself that she had still feelings for him after all, and she probably always did she mean something to him too, or did he just consider her a filthy, unworthy Mudblood deep down inside? How could he leave her the way he did, and treat her this indifferently, when he had been so tender and loving towards her earlier the very same day? It had crushed her in a way that even Bellatrix couldn't. In her rational mind she knew that even though Draco acted like a giant arse, he had, after all, saved her life, but emotionally she felt betrayed and cast away. As she sat on the bench beside Ron, mourning the dead, she also mourned the loss of Draco and of what could have been. And she promised herself to try to move forward from now on and let bygones be bygones.

In the next couple of days Ron was obviously courting her. In between celebrations and funerals he arranged spontaneous candlelight dinners, held the door for her and surprised her with flowers. She really appreciated his effort, and there was a time when all of this would have been everything she ever dreamt of. And she was desperate to return to these days of innocence before the war and before she was caught at the Manor. One evening after yet another celebration party and under the influence of a couple of drinks, Ron and her ended up snogging. One thing led to another, and later that evening they ended up in bed together. After this they were officially a couple, much to the satisfaction of their friends and Ron's family.

Hermione needed a place to live when things started getting back to normal after the Great Battle. She was sick and tired of sleeping in tents and at various couches at other Order Member's homes. And her parents were still in Australia; blissfully unaware of their only daughter. Harry offered her to move in with him in Grimmauld Place.

"This place is way too big for me, Hermione, and there are plenty of rooms. You can pick the one you like. I would love for you to move in; it will create a little life around here. I hate to live alone. And don't worry about Kreacher, he adores me now and wouldn't dream of insulting my friends," he had said.

She thanked him and gave him a big, friendly hug, and one day in early June she gathered her belongings and moved in to one of Harry's many rooms.

(*)

One evening in late June Harry and Hermione was hanging out in the living room, both reading. From the fireplace was a homely crackling of burning wood. Hermione had intentionally dimmed the fire, so it mostly consisted of embers. The flickering light of flames made her uncomfortable.

She considered going back to Hogwarts in order to complete the last year and therefore she tried to brush up on a couple of the subjects. Harry had wanted to become an Auror for years and he had his nose buried in the book "10 Hexes and Curses an Auror Should Know".

"Harry, do you ever miss television?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence.

Harry furrowed his brow, thinking it over for a while.

"Nah, not really, I guess. I was never really allowed to watch it anyway, at the Dursley's, so it was never that much of a habit for me. What I do miss is the activity in the Gryffindor common room on any normal day. It's way too quiet here for my taste. "

Hermione smiled. "Well I was rarely allowed to watch the telly as well, my parents were very strict in that regard and they found it mostly to be a waste of time. And I must say that I am grateful for the choices they made for me; I wouldn't have read half of the books I have, if I was allowed to watch the telly every day. But every Friday night when I was a child we watched a movie together eating candy and popcorn. It was the best time of the week."

"And sometimes," she continued, "I could do with a little mind numbing television in order to forget myself.

She changed into a more upright position on the couch, grimacing slightly as she moved her hip.

Deep lines of worry appeared in Harry's forehead.

"How are you holding up, Hermione?" he asked quietly.

She looked at her hands. "Well... There are good days and there are bad days... It's probably the same for the three of us, I guess. Ron has also changed somehow; he's quicker to anger than he used to be. And carrying a connection to You-Know... to Voldemort for so many years must have put a strain on you."

"The War has been hard on everyone," Harry replied. "But I've been meaning to talk to you for a while about your health. You make a grimace every time you have to bend down or change position. And sometimes your left hand twitches so much you have difficulties holding a fork. Don't you think I've noticed?"

Hermione felt blood rush to her cheeks. What was the point of trying to pretend everything was okay, when Harry was able to read her like an open book. She had been naive to think she could ignore her symptoms away. If anything, they had become worse. Despite trying to move forward, she was stuck in the past, and some part of her was still stuck at the Manor.

"What do you want me to say, Harry? That every morning I have to get out of bed it feels as if I'm 100 years old? That my left hand is prone to twitching when I'm tired? That my lower back is hurting almost all of the time, and that the pain keeps me awake at night? And when my back doesn't keep me awake, the nightmares do? Or the nausea I started having a couple of weeks ago?"

Harry's green eyes shone with compassion.

"Hermione, you don't have to carry all that alone. Share it with me and Ron. And seek help! If there was one thing I learned from the many years at Hogwarts spent fighting Voldemort, it's the fact that you can't make it through alone, you need to rely on your friends."

She felt bad for yelling at him. She had clearly been overreacting, and all he wanted to do was to be her friend and help her recover.

"Thanks Harry," Hermione replied, blinking away tears. "Sorry I yelled at you. I keep forgetting the fact that I'm not alone."

"Think nothing of it. Bringing it up I knew you wouldn't care much for this conversation. Even though I'm not as bright as you, it's not hard to grasp that you don't want to talk about the things that happened to you at the Manor. I worry about you, though. I don't know exactly what Bellatrix did to you, but I know what that wretched excuse for a witch was capable of."

"I think she's hurt me beyond repair." Hermione said darkly.

"Don't give up hope! You don't know whether the damage is permanent until you let a healer examine you. Things can get better, Hermione, and the first step is to see a Healer or a Mediwitch and start treatments."

She nodded.

Harry continued: "And you might need to discuss your nightmares and flashbacks with someone too. It's okay if you don't want to talk about it with me and Ron, but you need to discuss it with someone, preferably a Mind Healer."

"Flashbacks, you say! I don't have these."

"So how come you always avoid going into the basement of Grimmauld Place? How come you freeze like a deer in the headlights whenever you see flames? Does your mind bring you back to the Manor when this happens?"

Again Harry had seen right through her.

"All right I might have occasional flashbacks," she admitted. "You must think that I'm bat shit crazy."

"Not at all, Hermione! It's a perfectly normal reaction when faced with traumatic experiences. In fact I've had them myself for most of my life. Flashbacks from the time when Voldemort killed my parents. And I know better than most people how important it is to have the right tools to deal with it."

Hermione nodded again. She was not keen on discussing her stay at the Manor with a Mind Healer. She would probably have to tell about her encounter with Draco as well, and she would prefer to keep that memory for herself. However, she promised herself to see a Mediwitch the next day for her various symptoms.

"What about your parents? When are you going to restore their memory again? Don't you miss them a lot?" Harry asked.

"I miss them terribly. But I'm also scared, Harry. What if it turns out they're better off without me? What if they'll never forgive me for what I did, when they regain their memory?" She said in small voice.

Harry nodded. "You know we're there for you no matter what! Me and Ron!"

Speaking of which, a red head appeared in the fireplace all of a sudden.

"Oy Harry and Mione. Can I come over?"

Harry grinned. "Of course you can."

A moment later Ron appeared in the living room, carrying a suitcase sprayed with ash. He looked forlorn.

"I was hoping I could sort of... stay here for a while. With Fred gone and all, you know, it's not the same at home... Everybody is grieving and I just need some air."

"Of course you can, Ron," Harry replied. "As I've already told Hermione, I would really like to have some company around here."

"Well then, be ready for some entertainment," Ron said eagerly as he ripped his suitcase open, searching through the content.

"I have Wizarding Chess, Exploding Snap, Wizarding Quiz and Conquer Merlin's Sword. What should we play?"

They bickered for a while in a friendly way about what games to play, Hermione preferred Wizarding Quiz, Ron, of course, would rather play Chess, and Harry tried to convince them all to play Conquer Merlin's Sword. It was almost like the good old days in the Gryffindor Common Room. They spent the rest of the evening by the friendly crackling of the fireplace, playing games and remembering old times. Kreacher spoiled them with Butterbeer and Treacle Tart. When it was time to go to bed, Ron moved his suitcase into Hermione's room. Hermione pondered briefly if she was ready to live together with Ron already, however it seemed like a natural development at this point. They were both adults and after all they were a couple now.

The next morning Hermione sprinted to the bathroom and emptied the content of her stomach in the toilet bin. The nausea was back again, like almost every morning. But today would be different. Encouraged by Harry's peptalk yesterday she had decided to go see a Healer at Sct. Mungo's. She sneaked into her room to get her clothes. Ron was still asleep, and she decided not to wake him up before leaving.

She tried eating some breakfast, but unfortunately it just caused her to vomit once more. Weak and slightly dizzy she threw a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace, stepped in and said in a clear voice "St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries". Shortly after she stepped out of the fireplace at St Mungo's and was greeted by the Welcome Witch at the reception desk.

"Hello Miss. Do you have an appointment?"

"Hello Madam. No, I haven't, but I would like to ask if it's possible to see a Healer at a short notice, maybe even today. I think I might be suffering after effects from an unforgiveable curse inflicted on me during the war."

"Just a second, Miss. I need to check the calendar."

The Welcome Witch opened a large scroll lying at the desk and examined it thoroughly.

"Hm... Let's see... the Mediwitch Madam Flannagan has an open spot in half an hour. One of her patients cancelled her appointment this very morning. Would you like to wait here?"

"Great! And yes, I would like to wait," she said and found a place in the waiting area.

Not long after she was called into the surgery by a lanky witch with a lined, stern face and grey hair joined in a bum. Her brown eyes though, looked alert and intelligent, and Hermione was reminded of Madam Pomfrey and felt secure instantly.

"Welcome Miss Granger. Please take a seat. What can I do for you today?" she said.

Hermione sat down and told the Madam Flannagan about her various symptoms and pains. The Mediwitch listened attentively and asked several questions. Telling the witch about the torture was hard. And much of it she didn't remember clearly. She was careful not to mention anything compromising about Draco, even though the Mediwitch asked several questions as to why the two of them, a Muggleborn and a notorious Death Eater, was working together all of a sudden. Hermione answered the questions as best she could, and the witch left it at that.

When they were finished talking the Madam Flannagan motioned towards the couch and said:

"Please lie down and relax. I'm going to perform a full body scan and it's very important that you lie still!"

Hermione did as told, and soon after she felt a benign presence inside of her, moving slowly from head to toe. The procedure took a while and her back started aching from her immobile position. After what felt like forever the scan ended.

"Miss Granger, I'm finished scanning you now. You might feel dizzy if you rise too fast. So take it slow, and when you're back in the chair again, we can talk about the results."

As predicted she felt a little dizzy and the nausea had returned. Slowly she got out of the couch and into the chair facing the Mediwitch. Not only was she nauseated, her stomach was filled with butterflies as she anxiously awaited her diagnosis.

Madam Flannagan cleared her voice and said: "The _cruciatus curse_ has caused you nerve damage in the left arm and hand. It's still too early to determine whether the damage is temporary or permanent, however, I'm going to prescribe a potion which will lessen the symptoms somewhat."

Hermione nodded and made a mental note to go to the Apothecary on her way home.

"Is there anything else?" she asked.

"Due to the abuse and violence inflicted on you; your lumbar spine fractured. It was crudely healed by the late Professer Snape (Merlin bless his soul), however, the correct way to heal such a fracture would've been by using SkeleGro. I imagine that he either didn't have SkeloGro at the Manor, or that he was reluctant to put you through anymore pain that night, in fear of causing a severe break down. Professor Snape was a very accomplished healer, even though it wasn't his primary profession."

"I know," Hermione said.

Miss Flannagan continued: "Healing it now so long after the original damage is a complicated affair, since the spine has to be broken once more in order to be aligned anatomically correct."

"But can it be done?"

"Of course it can be done. I've performed this procedure several times and the result is almost always satisfying. But I wouldn't recommend it at the moment, since you're also pregnant."

"What!" Hermione exclaimed.

"It sounds as if this is totally unexpected to you. Haven't you noticed any missing periods? Any tender swollen breasts? Any fatigue?"

Hermione was stunned and overwhelmed. She did not expect this, nor was she ready to become a mother already.

"I did notice that my periods were missing, but I thought it was due to the damage caused by the _cruciatus curse_. And I'm tired most of the time. How far along am I?"

"It's impossible to say this early, though you're probably not that far along yet."

A horrifying thought struck her. This child was Draco's; there was absolutely no doubt in her mind. She and Ron had been careful and Ron had promised to take the contraceptive potion every time. But the whole idea of her being with Draco at the Manor was the conception of a powerful Half Blood Wizard. How ironic that You-Know-Who succeeded in his wicked experiment, and yet he would never know about it now.

"You need to start taking a Potion containing vitamins and nutrition for the baby. And there are certain precautions to take. It's not very healthy to apparate while pregnant. So I would recommend you to use the Floo when possible, or else to travel the Muggle way. But that will probably be easy for you, since you're Muggleborn, right?"

The blood was leaving her face and her ears started tingling. She nodded numbly.

"You don't seem too happy about this pregnancy? Is something wrong? What about the father of the child, would he be ready for this kind of responsibility?"

"It's just a surprise for me; that's all. I need time to think this through." Hermione said in a small voice.

She couldn't find a way to tell the older Mediwitch that she wasn't living with the father of the child, nor was she speaking to him. Revealing her and Draco's secret was out of the question, even though a Mediwitch was sworn to secrecy. She couldn't risk making Draco an outlaw. Alternatively she would have to lie and tell Madam Flannagan that she had been sloppy about protection and sexual partners, which would make sound like a slut. Therefore she chose to keep her mouth shut about her precarious situation.

"Talk it over with the father," the mediwitch said matter-of-factly. "And then come back to me in three or four weeks for another examination. I'm sure you and your boyfriend will be thrilled, once you've gotten used to the idea of becoming parents. We sure could use more babies around here after this horrible war."

"We will," Hermione said.

"And you should also know that the pregnancy can worsen the back pains. Furthermore the lower back fracture can complicate the birth of the child. I'm prescribing you a Painkiller Potion which is safe for the baby, if you don't overdo it. Will you promise to come see me if the pains are getting worse? You've gone way too long untreated already! I know that you were busy because of the war and the role you played in it, but the war is over now, and it's important that you take care of yourself, especially now. And I want to monitor you closely during this pregnancy."

Madam Flannagan handed her the different prescriptions and Hermione put them in her purse.

"Thank you, Madam Flannagan, for seeing me on such short notice. And thanks for your concern. I promise to come see you if I experience anything out of the ordinary."

"Good bye, Miss Granger. Take good care of yourself until we meet again!"

Walking out of St. Mungo's her legs felt like rubber. But she managed to keep herself together until she was out on the street and her legs started shaking violently. She stumbled towards a nearby park and collapsed on a bench. She couldn't face Ron and Harry right now.

She felt as if her entire foundation had shattered. What a mess. She was in a relationship with Ron and she most likely carried Draco's child. And Draco had left her, throwing her away like she was a piece of garbage. On top of that, she didn't think she was ready to care for a baby. The last couple of months had been so chaotic, and she still needed to figure out who she was and what she wanted to do with her life. Right now the only thing she wanted was her mother. She wanted comfort and she needed advice on how to deal with all this. Like in the old days when she was a child, she just wanted her mother to take care of her. To make her a cup of hot chocolate and hug her and tell her everything would be all right.

 _Mum and dad, I'm going to Australia to restore your memory. I need you now more than ever._

 **A/N:** Tioughnioga, Tisa-Tisa and anonymous reviewer: Thanks for taking the time to point out errors and inconsistencies. Those errors have been corrected now, and I hope it makes more sense to read.


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